


Iuncta Iuvant

by RK_Anon (Rochelle_Templer)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Good Omens Big Bang, Good Omens Big Bang 2019, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Some Swearing, and mentions of violence, but nothing that would be out of place in the mini series, most of it is canon compliant, so basically an AU but a somewhat minor one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/RK_Anon
Summary: What if Aziraphale hadn't been able to find a body after accidentally making an unplanned return to Heaven? And he wasn't able to let Crowley know what had happened to him.With Armageddon still looming, it will be up to Crowley to find the Antichrist on Earth while Aziraphale looks for a way to thwart the Apocalypse while still trapped in Heaven.God's plans may be ineffable, but they also seem to have more than one way to work themselves out in the end....
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 52
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the first chapter of my submission to the Good Omens Big Bang, an AU that has Crowley and Aziraphale scrambling for an alternate way to stop the Apocalypse.
> 
> A lot of things have happened to me in this past year, many of them terrible. There were numerous times when I thought I wouldn't be able to finish this project, so posting this first chapter really is a dream come true for me.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has made this possible for me. First off, my wonderful artist, aerococonut who chose my fic and stuck with me even when it wasn't clear if I would make it to the end. Their work is so lovely and I'm so grateful to them.
> 
> Second, my current beta diamondot who stepped in so late in the process, but has been wonderful in helping me sort out my drafts and get this ready to publish. Thank you so much for all of your suggestions.
> 
> Finally, I have to send a huge thank you to the GO Big Bang Mods who were so supportive and understanding about my situation and who helped me get the means to finish this project. I can't thank all of you enough.
> 
> One last note, the title of this fic is Latin and means "together they strive."

Crowley had told him more than once to invest in some sturdier locks for the bookshop.

Soho wasn’t always a “respectable” neighborhood. Back when it wasn’t, there were plenty of desperate people lurking about who would take anything from anyone to fund their next fix of whatever they were hooked on. Even when the neighborhood improved its standing within London, it only meant that thieves were now attracted to the promise of well-paying targets for their criminal behavior.

Thus, Crowley had cautioned the angel repeatedly about improving the security of his shop and primary residence for his own safety, but Aziraphale hadn’t seen the need for it. He was an angel, after all, and had his own defenses. Consequently, elaborate locks seemed like such an unnecessary concern. One that could discourage the few people Aziraphale actually wanted to come to his bookshop so he could minister to them in some way. Besides, the vast majority of criminal types were discouraged by a slight, but deliberate increase in his angelic presence.

Those who weren’t put off so easily were usually not driven by evil, but by hopelessness. In those cases, Aziraphale didn’t mind losing the meager amount of money he kept in his register as long as his books remained safe. Humans always needed money far more than he did.

Right now, though, trapped in a portal of holy light, Aziraphale realized that he probably should have listened to Crowley all along. A better lock could have meant the difference between being back in his bookshop enlisting Crowley’s assistance in dealing with the Antichrist and having an unscheduled discorporation which sent him back to Heaven unprepared.

 _‘Insufferable fool,’_ Aziraphale grumbled to himself. Being annoyed with Shadwell was an easy way to stay focused on his current problem instead of allowing himself to be swept away in the rush of holy awareness that was swamping his mind, an expected side effect of returning to Heaven as pure ethereal being rather than as an angel encased in a human body.

It also provided him with a needed distraction from the dread that was already creeping up on him. Dread over not knowing how he was going to tell Crowley where the Antichrist was so he could do something about him. How would they stop Armageddon now?

Aziraphale hadn’t had time to confront that question before he arrived in Heaven within one last burst of holy light. When he materialized, he instinctively grabbed at a body that was no longer physical. Disoriented, but mostly aggravated, Aziraphale blinked his eyes several times and opened his mouth to insist on being returned to Earth.

Then he realized where he had ended up.

 _‘Oh no,’_ he thought, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. _‘This isn’t the Main Office. This isn’t even one of the Debriefing Centers.’_

_‘Oh…oh good lord, I’m in Processing and Acquisitions.’_

Aziraphale put a hand to his face and groaned. The first time an angel needed to enter the physical plane and visit Earth, they first had to pay a visit to Processing and Acquisitions to prepare them for the journey. It was a long, tedious procedure: crafting a body that was individually suited to the angel who would be wearing it. Not to mention the modifications that would have to be made so that said angel could change it as needed, such as a change in race or gender.

Thankfully, it was a procedure Aziraphale had only had to endure once. P & A, as it was colloquially called, had given him a body for emergency use back when he was assigned to guard Eden, and Aziraphale had been quite happy to keep it ever since. There were a couple of times when he had been discorporated before now, but they had only been minor inconveniences as the body had turned out to be salvageable every time.

That would not be the case now. Human bodies could not withstand the holiness of Heaven’s direct means of transport. It would take those bodies apart, atom by atom. It was a loss Aziraphale was already beginning to feel keenly as, despite its perceived flaws, he was fond of that body and would miss it dearly.

However, even worse than that was the realization that he was currently stuck in what could be considered the most bureaucratic section in all of Heaven.

A pair of short, slight angels milled around a desk that stood in front of a wall of shelves that were full to nearly bursting with books and files. Aziraphale took a deep breath and marched over to them.

“Er, excuse me…I mean, hello, could I talk to someone about….”

“Name?” the angel with glasses said, not looking up from the ledger that was spread out in front of him.

Aziraphale sighed. “Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

“ _Principality_ Aziraphale?” the one with the pug nose said. “Can’t be. Only cherubim were sent to guard Eden.”

“If you were to check your records, I believe you’ll find that I was a cherub when I was sent to Eden,” Aziraphale replied. Saying the words aloud was like picking at a scab that still itched and ached.

“Wait…yes, Cherub Aziraphale, now Principality,” Glasses said after flipping through a few pages. “Currently assigned to Earth.”

“A demotion?” Pug Nose said, his eyes widening. “I didn’t know such things happened without Falling.”

“Well, obviously, they do!” Aziraphale snapped. Then he took another breath and put his best placating smile back onto his face. “I need to speak to someone about returning….”

“Wait, why aren’t you in one of the Debriefing Centers?” Pug Nose interrupted again. “That’s where the Supervisor is now. Probably has a platoon ready for you, if you’re still a Principality.”

“I am and I don’t need a platoon,” Aziraphale shot back. “I need to return to Earth immediately. Something very important is about to….”

“Back to Earth? Impossible,” Glasses said, still not looking up. “You can’t go without a body. You’d need to be issued a new one from our department.”

The corner of Aziraphale’s mouth twitched, but he made sure that the smile remained. “Yes, I know I need a body, so if you could kindly….”

“How did you lose it?” Pug Nose asked. “I thought for sure you’d hold onto that one for at least a few more centuries.”

Aziraphale waved a hand in front of him. “It’s a long story, and I’m afraid I do not have time to go into it. I must see about getting a new body and returning to Earth. The whole of humanity is at stake.”

Glasses finally lifted his head and blinked owlishly at him. “We can’t issue you another body without the Supervisor’s approval. He counts them all out and checks them all in. He won’t be happy that you lost yours.”

“I imagine he won’t,” Aziraphale said, his tone brittle. “But it’s still vital that he gives me another body. Where is he? May I speak to him?”

“He’s not here,” Pug Nose replied. “He’s finally been promoted to Quartermaster. Part of the Great Plan, you understand. He’s busy preparing the troops for their platoons and then debriefing them.”

“I see. So who is in charge of issuing bodies now?”

Glasses and Pug Nose looked at each other quizzically while Aziraphale felt his desperation grow. “Surely one of you here has taken over his duties.”

“Come to think of it, I don’t know if either of us have,” Pug Nose said, putting a finger to his chin while Glasses went back to studying his ledger. “Not really any point in it, is there? What with the world ending and the Great Battle about to commence.”

“But that’s why I must get back to Earth!” Aziraphale cried. “Can’t one of you fill in, as it were, and release a new body to me?”

Glasses and Pug Nose looked at each other again with even more bemusement in their expressions.

“Can we do that?”

“How should I know? The Supervisor…I mean, Quartermaster…always took care of everything.”

“Yes, always. Were we supposed to take over by this point?”

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale interrupted, his patience worn thin. “But if you two have worked in this department from the beginning, I would think that at least one of you would be familiar with the procedure involved. Couldn’t we start from there?”

“I suppose we could, yes,” Pug Nose said, tapping his chin again. “But you see, we got promotions too. So we’re going to be terribly busy.”

“Yes, terribly busy,” Glasses said, writing something down in his ledger.

Aziraphale’s brow crinkled. “Promotions? What do you mean?”

“We mean, we’re not technically Processing and Acquisitions anymore,” Pug Nose answered. “We’re just Acquisitions. We’ve been promoted to Claims Recorder and Official Sorter. No need to think about processing bodies for angels anymore.”

Glasses looked up, and for the first time, Aziraphale was unnerved by the barely contained zeal gleaming in the angel’s eyes.

“Like you said, Principality Aziraphale, the whole of humanity is at stake and their fates are to be decided. Why else did you think that we had a department dedicated to Acquisitions? Last thing the Front Gate needs is to get too clogged up.”

He rose from his chair and leaned toward Aziraphale, the holy fire in his eyes growing.

“We’ve been preparing for this moment for six thousand years, Principality Aziraphale. You cannot possibly believe that we would hold up our work within the Great Plan just because one angel wants to join the battlefield a little bit early.”

* * *

Meanwhile, in London, Soho, Crowley wondered if he should order another bottle of whiskey.

He had already finished the first one…no, two…bottles, and he was finally starting to feel the effect of so much alcohol on his corporation’s system.

Still…

He raised his hand and motioned for another bottle. Might as well enjoy as much of it as he could. It wasn’t as if he’d get the chance tomorrow. Or any other day.

And for the very first time since this whole Armageddon business started, Crowley found comfort in that certainty. The End of Everything included the end of Eternity. Or at the very least, the end of it for Anthony J. Crowley.

The bartender sat the latest bottle down onto the table and Crowley thought about leaving him a generous tip. Not that money would matter anymore either. Maybe this was just his demonic nature asserting itself. Giving a human a little bit of hope right before the world burned to a cinder could certainly be an evil thing to do.

Crowley threw a few bills onto the table and opened the bottle. Might as well let the man be happy for a little while longer. Why the Heaven not? Much like just before the Flood, Crowley saw no need to add to these doomed humans’ suffering.

He poured himself another large glass of whiskey. This kind wasn’t his favorite, but it did have the peculiar effect of making him drunk much faster than most spirits did which was just what he needed right now. Getting drunk quickly could make him numb or at least take the edge off his pain.

It almost worked too. With each burning swallow, it got a bit easier to think about Aziraphale and not break into thousands of pieces. He just had to make sure to not think about the flames consuming the bookshop and the angel’s likely fate in that inferno.

Crowley choked down the rest of his drink, placing the glass down with shaking hands and blurred vision. No matter how much he drank, he wouldn’t be able to erase the angel’s name from his thoughts. Or the beauty of Aziraphale’s smile. Or the delightful way he wiggled with excitement when Crowley invited him to lunch or gave him a first edition he’d been looking for.

_“…I won’t even think about you….”_

Crowley poured himself another drink, not caring when he sloshed several mouthfuls outside the glass. That had been every bit as much of a lie as _“I don’t need you”_ had been back in 1862. The only thing he could think about right now was Aziraphale. Every detail about the angel had imprinted itself into Crowley’s brain far deeper than mere memory could.

Even when there was this distance between them, both physical and mental, Aziraphale was a part of his being. Knowing that the angel was out there, somewhere, experiencing the world, loving these humans, and seeing the same stars in the sky at night made eternity bearable when they couldn’t be together.

Now Aziraphale was gone and the world was empty. Breathing, moving, thinking, all of it felt meaningless. And the worst of it was the awareness Crowley had that this was just the beginning. That Aziraphale’s death was still sinking in and that his grief and pain would only increase from this point onward.

When faced with that reality, Armageddon and the destruction it would entail didn’t seem so bad.

Crowley poured the whiskey into his mouth. There was a good chance he wouldn’t make it to Armageddon anyway. Hell was still angry at him over his mistakes. And Hastur…if Hastur ever found a way out of that answering machine, he wasn’t going to forget about what Crowley had done to him. Or what had happened to Ligur.

If he did manage to evade Hell’s agents long enough for the real battle to begin…Crowley doubted he would survive it. He’d simply let the first angel or demon he came across cut him down.

Well…not Gabriel. There was no way he’d allow that prick to be the one to end him.

Crowley sat his glass back down and glanced over at the book at the edge of the table. He’d taken it as a souvenir on a whim. Aziraphale had risked his life more than once to save books. Seemed appropriate to honor that passion one last time by saving another book.

He ran his hands over the letters embossed on the cover. He’d recognized it the second he saw it in the bookshop. Aziraphale had mentioned this particular prophecy book numerous times over the last couple of centuries so it was impossible to forget it.

Although, a tiny part of Crowley was curious to know how the angel had finally found it. Wasn’t there supposed to be only one copy in the entire world? Awfully big coincidence that Aziraphale just happened to stumble upon it now.

Crowley was about to pull his hand away and get back to drinking when he noticed something sticking out between the cover and the pages of the book. He flipped the cover aside and found pieces of paper folded inside, including a map.

But what had really caught his eye was the fact that he recognized the handwriting on the papers as Aziraphale’s.

Crowley pulled the papers out and studied them. They were notes taken from the book about some prophecies. Included was the name and location of the Antichrist, the real one. The map indicated that the boy’s name was Adam Young and that he was currently living in Tadfield. There were also vague references to a nearby airbase that looked to be the true Ground Zero for the Apocalypse.

Crowley clenched his hands tightly. This must have been what Aziraphale had tried to tell him in that last phone call. He had found the Antichrist and had decided to share that knowledge with him, despite his previous vehemence that he would never tell a demon if he did discover the truth.

He tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat made it impossible. Aziraphale had been under the thumb of Heaven for a long time and had internalized so much of their rhetoric. But Crowley knew that the angel still struggled against that rhetoric and was willing to rebel against it if it was at odds with what was actually Good.

Or if rebelling was needed to protect a certain demon. Crowley knew it must have been tearing the angel up inside, but Aziraphale still chose him and the Earth over Heaven’s Will. This time though, Aziraphale paid the ultimate price for his disobedience.

And Crowley had done nothing to stop it from happening.

Fresh tears welled up in Crowley’s eyes. Aziraphale had believed in this cause, in stopping the Apocalypse and saving humanity, all the way to the end. He’d been willing to sacrifice himself for it.

Now, it was up to Crowley to decide how much he was willing to sacrifice.

Crowley pushed his glasses up onto his forehead so he could swipe away his tears with his knuckles. In that moment, he knew that he would be damned…or damned again…before he’d let Aziraphale’s sacrifice be wasted.

He threw a few more bills onto the table and expelled the alcohol out of his system, sobering himself up. Getting to Tadfield in one piece would not be easy. He’d heard rumors about massive traffic jams and Hell would probably send more agents to make sure no one interfered with the start of Armageddon.

And even when he got to Tadfield…Crowley wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with the Antichrist. Kill him? He could try, but then again, the Antichrist might wipe him from existence in response.

But did that really matter now? Did it matter that he might be taken out while trying to save the world? What was the difference between dying that way and just sitting here and waiting for the world to end?

_‘The difference is…trying to save everyone is what Aziraphale would do…’_

Crowley grabbed the book and rushed out to the Bentley. The chances of this succeeding were so infinitesimally small as to be laughable. But that wasn’t why he was doing this. He wasn’t doing this because he thought he would succeed.

He was going to do it because it’s what Aziraphale wanted. And Crowley realized that he preferred to die doing what his angel wanted.

Crowley pulled out from the curb and sped off into the driving rain and snarls of traffic.

_‘I’m going to get to Tadfield, angel. I swear to Go—Sat—Someday, I’m going to make it. I’m going to find a way to stop this and save the world.’_

_‘I swear to you, Aziraphale…I won’t let you down again.’_


	2. Chapter 2

“Principality Aziraphale, you’re not supposed to be rifling through those manuals.”

“Actually, is there a rule about that? About other angels reading those manuals?”

“I thought there was. Seems like there should be one, shouldn’t there?”

“Oh yes, I concur, but I’m not sure if there is an official rule on the matter.”

Aziraphale sighed and did his best to ignore Glasses and Pug Nose who he found out were called Nelchael and Iaoth respectively. While they continued to chatter away, he was busy searching for a way to issue himself a new body so he could return to Earth and work with Crowley on stopping the Antichrist.

 _‘There’s still a chance,’_ he told himself as he flipped through the pages of the manual in his hands. _‘As long as Armageddon hasn’t actually reached its inciting event, there’s still time to prevent it from unfolding.’_

_‘I just hope that Crowley will….’_

Despite the concentration he had for the task at hand, Aziraphale’s breath hitched. The last time they had spoken to each other face to face, Crowley had declared that he was leaving for Alpha Centauri on his own. After talking to the Metatron and realizing that Heaven had no interest in preventing the destruction of Earth, Aziraphale had tried calling him and was momentarily relieved that Crowley was still at his flat. Their conversation had been frustratingly brief, but apparently, he had stayed long enough to say farewell to some dear friend before departing.

By now, it was entirely possible that Crowley had left Earth and wasn’t available to help.

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath and went back to focusing on the manual. He preferred to think that Crowley would still rather save the world than abandon it, even if it was just to save this mystery friend who Crowley had mentioned on the phone.

A mystery friend he couldn’t afford to dwell on right now despite the great temptation to do so. He needed a body if he was to have any chance of getting back to Earth and convincing Crowley to help him. After that…well after that, Aziraphale knew he would have to deal with the consequences of his deplorable behavior.

 _‘Blast it, why can’t I find the information I need?’_ he thought sourly. _‘There seems to be no rhyme or reason to how the contents of these manuals are formatted.’_

He looked up to glare at Nelchael and Iaoth before sitting his book aside and picking up another manual to scan. Once he had realized that they were not going to assist him in any way, he had marched over to the space behind the desk and pushed past them to search through the giant bookcase they were standing in front of. At first, they had scolded him, but they soon gave up and started their current discussion about whether or not Aziraphale was doing anything wrong in the first place.

Aziraphale doubted that they would have been much help anyway and had forced himself to be grateful that they weren’t actively interfering with his task.

He had almost gotten to the end of another manual when a chapter title caught his eye: _Joining of an Angel to Flesh_.

A surge of excitement running through him, Aziraphale read through the text underneath it. He quickly learned that he had found what he was looking for at last.

 _‘According to this, the body must be whole before joining can occur,’_ he mused. _‘That probably means that my old body is no longer an option.’_

Aziraphale’s face fell. Despite how Gabriel and many of the other angels had mocked his corporation, Aziraphale was quite attached to it. It had been crafted with care, was quite comfortable, and most importantly of all, it truly reflected how he saw himself and the type of angel he wanted to be. A quick substitute was not likely to have all those attributes.

He shook his head. He couldn’t be concerned with personal wants right now. A body was a body, simply a vessel to enable him to accomplish what he needed to do. He’d worry about the long-term adjustment later.

Unfortunately, another obstacle soon presented itself and Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath. As much as he was loathe to involve them, he knew he’d have to ask for clarification.

“Excuse me,” he called out to Nelchael and Iaoth who were still bickering a few feet away from him. “But could one of you clear something up for me?”

Both Nelchael and Iaoth stopped talking and turned to face him.

“We haven’t decided yet if you should be allowed to read that,” Iaoth replied.

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Aziraphale said, struggling to keep any testiness out of his tone. “But if you haven’t reached a decision yet, you could answer this one question for me.”

Nelchael shrugged and walked over to him. “You have a point. We haven’t decided yet, so I suppose questions aren’t off limits yet either. What do you wish to know, Principality Aziraphale?”

“This passage,” Aziraphale said, pointing to a block of text in the manual. “It mentions the _‘bringing forth of flesh from Her Holy Light.’_ Does this mean actual creation from nothingness or do you simply shape a body from available matter and a template?”

“Principality Aziraphale, Her Holy Light is hardly nothingness, as you so crudely put it,” Nelchael said. “But otherwise, you are correct. Although he doesn’t usually appear as such, the Supervisor….”

“Quartermaster,” Iaoth corrected.

“Yes, Quartermaster, quite right,” Nelchael said with a nod. “Anyway, he is a cherub like you. Or rather, like you were. He has the ability to create a human body anew.”

“He’s the only one in the department who can,” Iaoth added. “Us just being Virtues and all, we don’t have anything to do with the creation of living matter. We just look like this so we don’t frighten the human souls when they arrive.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. Unbeknownst to the two angels in his company, a part of him was still a cherub, but he had lost the ability to create living tissue when he was transformed. It was an understandable loss given how he had never actually used that ability when he was guarding Her Holy Throne and would probably not need it while on Earth.

Unfortunately, it was becoming increasingly clear to him that getting a new body in time to stop the Apocalypse would not be feasible. He would have to find another way.

“Shouldn’t you be seeing to your troop, Principality Aziraphale?” Nelchael asked. “After all, there’s nothing for you to do here, is there?”

Aziraphale closed the book in his hands and sat it down onto the counter. “You know what, Nelchael? You are absolutely right.”

* * *

Deciding to forgo the hoverboard that Iaoth offered him, Aziraphale marched briskly to the War Rooms. Walking gave him time to think and gave him the physical push to strengthen his resolve for when he reached his destination.

He was certain that he’d need it, especially given the sort of reception he anticipated.

Eventually, he saw a troop of angels who were being overseen by another angel who Aziraphale vaguely recognized as the former Supervisor of Processing and Acquisitions and who was now Quartermaster to Her Divine Army.

“Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate,” the Quartermaster said without looking up from his podium. “You’re late.”

Aziraphale sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, this was going to be every bit as unpleasant as he thought it would be.

“Yes, I know I am late, but something very important has come up and I must….”

“Wait a minute.” The Quartermaster looked up with a mix of disdain and high-strung annoyance in his eyes. “You were issued a body and a flaming sword. And I don’t see either one of them. Where are they?!”

Aziraphale flinched at the bellowing tone, a reflex honed from thousands of years of being oh so careful to suppress any hint of dissention so he could stay safely within Heaven’s strict edicts.

However, the prospect of watching the universe burn had given him the boldness to act.

“It’s a long story and I haven’t the time to explain it all now. I need to….”

“You need to report to your platoon and get them ready for battle,” the Quartermaster snapped. He bent down and picked up a bundle of clothes from under the podium. “Here is your uniform. We can take the cost of your replacement sword out of your celestial wages. Your orders are to….”

“Before all that, I invoke my right to confer with my troop privately,” Aziraphale said. The Quartermaster narrowed his eyes at him.

“Just what are you playing at, you pathetic excuse for an angel? You already have your orders. Do something right for a change and carry them out.”

He punctuated his remarks by thrusting the bundle of clothes into Aziraphale’s hands. Aziraphale’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he shoved his uniform onto the podium.

“As a principality, I have the right to speak to my platoon before we act,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “If you cast your mind back, you’ll remember that that bylaw was in place during the Great Rebellion and it hasn’t been struck down since. So I am invoking it now, if you please. Or even if you don’t because it is my right.”

The Quartermaster vibrated with impotent fury, but the look in his eyes told Aziraphale that he had him. He spun on his heel to the line of waiting angels already in uniform.

“Stand down!” he yelled. Then he turned back toward Aziraphale. “You have two hours while I prepare the next platoon on my list. When I get back, you best be in uniform and ready to carry out your orders, Principality Aziraphale. Or there will be consequences, you can count on that.”

The Quartermaster snatched up his ledger and stomped away. Once he was gone, Aziraphale faced the line of angels before him and let out a shuddering breath. Uncertainty was clear on every single one of their faces.

“Er, hello. I, I am…oh look, I know all of you have been told to prepare for battle and have heard so many times that the War is a just one and part of Her Great Plan, but….”

Aziraphale wrung his hands and slowly moved closer to them. “But I don’t believe She truly wants us to destroy Her entire creation. Not when She loved it so and was willing to send the Holy Son to sacrifice Himself for their sake. Not when there is a chance that we can save the lives we were entrusted to guide and to protect and to love.”

The angels continued to stare silently at him, and Aziraphale sensed that he was starting to lose his hold on the majority of them, but he pressed on.

“You all know that I have lived among the humans for thousands of years. So I can safely assure you that, for all their faults and frailties, they are worthy of Her love. And I know that many of you have visited Earth at least once, if not several times, and have seen for yourselves what a wondrous creation it is.”

Aziraphale clasped his hands together, his eyes bright with emotion. “Please, I am begging you to do your duty, your Highest Duty, and love them as She has done. Love them and help me save them before it’s too late.”

At first, there was simply stunned silence, probably due to actually hearing an angel encourage them to defy what could be interpreted as Her Divine Will. Such things had not happened in Heaven since just before the Great Rebellion and the subsequent Falling.

Then there was the hardening in so many of the faces that Aziraphale knew too well. Those angels were not going to listen to him, were not going to do anything other than follow the orders to battle. And that sentiment was spreading throughout the troop.

He was about to lose hope completely when three angels suddenly stepped forward, all of them dressed in the tartan uniform assigned to the platoon. one of them tall, lanky and masculine in appearance with short red hair, and the third one having white hair, silver eyes, and genderless appearance.

The shortest one of the three had long dark hair that was tied into a bun. She looked up at Aziraphale with a fierce determination in her eyes. “Principality Aziraphale, I am Arael. I was your attendant when you were one of the guardians of Her Holy Throne.”

Aziraphale gave her a warm smile. “Yes, I remember you, my dear.”

Another angel stepped forward. “And I am Chasen.” He was tall and lanky with dark red hair, but his voice was soft, hesitant. “I served in your troop during the Great Rebellion.”

The last angel moved closer to stand just behind Arael and Chasen. “And I am Theliel,” they said. “You saved my life during the Great Rebellion when you shielded me from the demon who tried to take my head.” Theliel studied Aziraphale with light grey eyes, their head of white hair swaying as they leaned closer. “I am honored to have the chance to serve you now.”

“We know you and know that you are loyal to Her and Her Edicts even though your words might be interpreted as traitorous,” Arael continued. She took a deep breath and then looked up at him with a steely gaze.

“Commander, what can we do to save the Earth and Her precious humans?”


	3. Chapter 3

A short time later, Chasen and Theliel approached a weary-looking angel who was hovering beside a glowing circle of symbols. They paused long enough to give each other a nervous glance before continuing their slow, cautious march.

Even though they were determined to complete their mission neither of them looked forward to upsetting Pahatron, Guardian of the Divine Vision Portal.

Sometimes, rather than visit Earth themselves, angels within the higher spheres and even the Metatron would use the portal to impart Divine Messages to humans chosen to act as prophets for God. It wasn’t often used these days. Visions were not trusted like they used to be. Many prophets were considered at best mad or at worst heretics.

Plus, many suspected that Hell had constructed a similar portal and this was simply confusing the humans further.

Consequently, it wasn’t often that Pahatron, an unimaginative and blunt Virtue, had any visitors. Certainly not lower tier angels who were supposed to be preparing for the Next Great War.

“It looks like you lot took a wrong turn,” Pahatron said. They flicked a glowing tendril of eyes off to the side. “Aren’t the platoons supposed to be meeting in the Debriefing Rooms?”

“Virtue Pahatron, your presence is urgently needed in, um….” Chasen coughed. “In Debriefing Room Silver. For…for….”

“For a very urgent matter,” Theliel completed for him.

“Right. Urgent.” Chasen said as they both nodded.

They heard a long sigh come from the shimmering sphere of ribbons, several of which turned their eyes toward them. Chasen and Theliel bobbed their heads about trying to figure out where to keep their gaze, a common problem when dealing with Virtues.

“Look here, I know you two mean well, but I am certain that you are mistaken,” Pahatron replied. “Why do you think I have been minding the Divine Visions Portal for all these millennia? Because I’m not leadership material. It would be a disaster to put me in charge of a platoon.”

Chasen and Theliel opened their mouths to reply, but Pahatron waved several tendrils at them.

“Do not worry about sparing my feelings. I know the truth and have accepted it. This is my place within Heaven’s ranks, and as angels, we must accept our roles with humility and grace. There’s no need for any flattery.”

Chasen swallowed hard. “But we weren’t going to….”

“And besides, I do have quite an important role. Or rather I did. But it will be important again, you know. As this War To End Everything begins, many humans shall be granted visions of the hardships to come. Granted, almost all of them will misinterpret the visions as humans are wont to do. But nevertheless, it will be an important job.”

Theliel took a breath and stood straighter. “Virtue Pahatron, we really should….”

“Of course, there are those who wouldn’t consider it as important as leading our angelic armies toward our final battle with the servants of evil.” Several of Pahatron’s eyes rolled upward. “Heed my words, if you ever make even the smallest error like misplace one holy spear; see where that gets you with Gabriel. No, forget that, I will go ahead and tell you. It will be ‘goodbye sacred post’ and ‘hello passive guardian of a portal that doesn’t even need….’”

“Virtue Pahatron,” Chasen interrupted. “Please, I beg you….”

Most of Pahatron’s eyes widened. “Beg? Why that’s got to be the very first time that anyone has ever begged me for anything. Normally, I’m simply told to do this or that without question. Finally hearing someone say ‘please’ to me, well…it gets me right here.”

Pahatron lifted a bundle of rippling ribbons up toward the center of its form. Both Chasen and Theliel’s faces ached as they put on what they hoped would be considered placating smiles.

Another quick glance at each other signaled that this might be the opening they were looking for. Fortunately, Theliel had always found it easy to improvise.

“As you said, human prophets will soon be spreading the news of our upcoming triumphant battle against the forces of Hell,” they said. “Perhaps, if you could give the angels chosen to deliver those messages some insight into how they should be crafted, the humans would not muddle Her Divine Word quite so much.”

The strands surrounding the Virtue parted, revealing a pulsating ball at the center, the light emanating from it green and pearly.

“Yes, yes perhaps you are right,” Pahatron said. “The symbolism of Divine Visions is quite the art from. And it is so often lost on those fragile, mortal minds. But…wait, if we tell the humans too much about our plans, might Hell learn of our strategy and be able to mount an effective counterattack?”

Chasen let out a nervous laugh. “You, you know how it is with demons. The more accurate and truthful something is, the more they distrust it.”

Theliel gaped at him for only a moment before laughing along with Chasen. Soon, Pahatron joined in.

“Yes, yes, that is very true. Why, this is a fine idea indeed. If we can get things right this time, it will almost make up for all those dreadful interpretations that were tacked onto the last chapters of the Holy Word. Almost, mind you. Humans…what lurid imaginations they have.”

The center of the sphere was covered again, and the tendrils tightened together as Pahatron rose upward.

“Right, so where should we start? With Gabriel’s troop? Or perhaps….”

“Er, no, we were asked to take you to Debriefing Room Silver first,” Chasen said. “That way, we can start there and work our way around.”

“Seems rather inefficient,” Pahatron mused. “But they’ll probably be the first troop out. Well then, shall we go?”

Chasen and Theliel bowed slightly and parted so Pahatron could leave in front of them. They hesitated just outside the portal room, looked down the corridor and then rushed to follow Pahatron.

Several seconds later, Aziraphale and Arael peeked around the corner.

“Truly, it is a miracle that Chasen and Theliel were able to lure Pahatron away from their post,” Arael breathed.

“Not really,” Aziraphale replied. “Trust me, Pahatron has been looking for an excuse to leave that room for centuries. They probably would have been moved to a more active department long ago if it wasn’t for Gabriel’s refusal to forgive a mistake.”

“Is that why you’ve remained on Earth for so long, Commander? Because Gabriel wasn’t pleased with your performance?”

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, Arael clapped her hands over her lips. “Please forgive me,” she said through her fingers. “I, I did not mean….”

Aziraphale gave her a sad smile. “It’s all right, my dear. I know you meant no harm. And please, I’d rather you not address me as ‘Commander’. I had more than my fill of that during the Great Rebellion. Aziraphale is fine, if you please.”

Arael ducked her head as she nodded. “Yes Com—Aziraphale.”

“And as to your question…my mission on Earth may have been monitored by Gabriel, but I have always believed that the true purpose of my mission was between me and the Almighty. It was Her will that I was sent to Earth, and I am certain that my mission for Her has not been completed.”

A warmer smile appeared on his face as he patted her shoulder. “And I know that this could be considered an odd concept, but I happen to quite like it on Earth. Humanity is terrible, riddled with frailties and in need of so much guidance, but they are also remarkable, generous, and indomitable creatures.”

Arael looked up at him. “You…you truly do love them.”

“I do,” Aziraphale said, nodding. “And I can see why She loves them too. That is why I must do whatever I can to save them.”

They crept from their hiding place and rushed into the portal room. Once they were inside, Aziraphale waved his hand, shutting the entrance and sealing them inside. Then they approached the glowing portal in the floor.

“Now then,” Aziraphale said, pacing around the circle. “We need to find someone who will be receptive to the message we send.” He motioned toward the portal’s center, and a globe rose up. It spun, a wave of light passing over it, and then came into focus with a map of the world on its surface. “It has to be someone in England who can act on that message.”

“Won’t that severely limit our options?” Arael said. “Are you sure we can afford to be so selective?”

“I’m afraid we must be,” Aziraphale said. He placed his hands near the top of the globe and traced his finger around the British Isles. “Human transportation being what it is at this point, a person in a different country would probably not be able to arrive in time to accomplish anything. Thankfully, there are more humans who are receptive to celestial messages than Heaven might have led you to believe.”

Aziraphale’s brow crinkled as he extended his index finger toward the globe. “The trick is more like finding someone who will listen as well as hear us.”

He closed his eyes and moved his finger closer, but at the last second, Arael grabbed at his arm.

“Wait! Commander….” She took a breath. “I mean, Aziraphale, are you sure you know how to use this? Have you done this before?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. But I believe I understand the basic principles of it. Well, I’m sure I can figure it out as I go.”

* * *

Most Londoners were dismayed by the worsening weather outside, but not Madame Tracy.

Ominous weather could easily be interpreted as restlessness on the spiritual plane. It was also ideal for creating the right sort of atmosphere without having to wait until the middle of the night.

Plus, her clientele were not the types to be put off by some inclement weather, so her afternoon would not be wasted.

She glanced in the mirror and touched up her hair. A couple of her regulars as well as some new customers were due today. She would need to balance the comforting familiarity of conversations with established deceased loved ones with enticing insight into the newcomers’ lives. A tricky thing, but Tracy had learned a long time ago that enthusiasm could cover up most shortcomings. A truism that applied to both of her lines of employment.

She moved out to the living room where her crystal ball sat and was about to start lighting candles when she caught sight of an eerie glow in the corners of her vision.

Tracy put a hand to her chest and sank onto one of the chairs surrounding the table. Although much of what she did these days was for show, she earnestly believed that she possessed some psychic sensitivity. Several times throughout her life, she had experienced brushes with the supernatural. Those moments had provided plenty of inspiration in the early days before she had polished her performance.

However, those moments had been rare and had only happened a couple of times during an actual séance. Not that she would reveal when the spirits has truly contacted her clients. It wouldn’t do to give them unrealistic expectations.

By this point, it had been a few years since she had felt the presence of psychic phenomena. It was reassuring to know that she was still capable of sensing it.

The glow Tracy had barely perceived soon coalesced and concentrated, wisps of light swirling into a definite shape. A sound emerged, but Tracy couldn’t decipher it.

“Oh spirit from beyond,” she intoned. “I hear you, but I’m afraid I did not understand your message. Please tell me why you have returned to this mortal plane? Who do you seek to contact?”

The light shifted again and was taking the shape of what looked like a person, a man. A man with…a bow tie?

There was a polite cough and Madame Tracy blinked when she was suddenly faced with what looked like a kindly, but absentminded librarian in front of her.

“Dreadfully sorry,” the apparition said. “I’m still trying to…how would you say…get the hang of this portal.” He cleared his throat again. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, yes I can hear you,” Tracy said, nodding eagerly. “May I ask your name?”

The spirit drew himself up, holding his hands out. “I am Aziraphale, a messenger from Heaven. Do not be afraid.”

Tracy drew back, her face falling slightly. “I’m not afraid. I just wished you had showed up twenty minutes later, Mr. Aziraphale. I have a couple of religious sorts in my group today and seeing you would have gone a long way toward stopping their ridiculous tirades about….”

Aziraphale patted his hands downward. “Yes, yes, I am sorry, but I’m afraid that there isn’t time for that. I have a message of vital importance to humanity.”

“Oh a prophecy,” Tracy said, her expression brightening again. “My clients love prophecies.”

“It’s…it’s not so much a new prophecy as the fulfillment of some very old ones. You see, it’s the End of the World, and I desperately need your help.”

* * *

Crowley leaned forward in his seat, craning his neck to peer out his windshield. _‘Well…this is new.’_

It wasn’t the extreme backlog of traffic that caught his attention, although it certainly was annoying. Then again, that was also to be expected given how he had helped to plan the M25 to aggravate the humans on a grand scale. He could hardly complain that it was working even better than he had hoped, even though that wouldn’t necessarily stop him from doing so anyway.

No, it was the surging inferno in the horizon that had him stunned.

Crowley frowned and looked down at the book in his lap. He had paged through several of Aziraphale’s books of prophecy through the years and had leafed through the one he currently had a few times while waiting for openings in the traffic he could exploit. He certainly did not remember any references to a giant wall of flames encircling London in any of them. And that included the really messed up prophecies that had to have been written with the aid of chemical influences.

Even from this distance, Crowley had known immediately that this was no normal fire that was due to natural catastrophes or humanity’s fuck ups. This was the flames of Hellfire. Somehow, the M25 had become an epicenter of demonic energy, either by accident or as a side effect of the Antichrist’s awakening. Most likely, it was an attempt by Hell to feed additional power into their upcoming assault against Heaven.

No matter where it came from or why it existed, Crowley was certain that the Bentley would not survive a drive through it. Honestly, he wasn’t all that sure that his corporation would make it either.

Crowley’s scowl deepened. He’d never get to Tadfield in time if he tried looking for an alternative route. It was either risk getting turned into a campfire marshmallow or sit around and wait for Heaven and Hell to turn the Earth into a crushed cinder.

Not the best of choices. Even for someone who was used to dealing with loaded decisions.

_‘Angel, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I….’_

Crowley’s thoughts were derailed when he felt a tug on an arm of his sunglasses. He turned his face as they were yanked away and was greeted with the unwelcome sight of Hastur in his car.

 _‘Damn. I should have destroyed that tape.’_ He watched, blinking rapidly, as the Duke of Hell shattered the sunglasses in his fist, flicking the broken pieces away before finally acknowledging his presence.

“Crowley, did you really think you could escape me so easily?”

Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “Was worth a shot. Speaking of, how did you get out?”

Hastur chuckled. Or, more accurately, he let out a passable approximation of a chuckle. “You can thank another one of your ideas for that. I believe you called them…telemarkets.”

“Telemarketers,” Crowley corrected. “Guess I should have known that they’d find my number eventually. Clever humans. Never any way of stopping them when there’s money to be made.”

“I wouldn’t call them clever. But they were…satisfying.”

Crowley’s stomach clenched as his mind conjured up several possibilities as to why Hastur had chosen that word in particular.

The Duke of Hell turned narrowed, shark-black eyes toward him, a smirk on his lips. “I’m taking you back to Hell, Crowley. There’s no point in resisting. You’ve got nowhere else to run to, and your traitorous angel friend can’t help you anymore.”

That had done it. What had been a nervous bundle of fears churning inside Crowley over what Hell and Hastur specifically might do to him was instantly lit ablaze and burned hotter than the wall of fire in front of them.

_‘It was him. He did it. He set the bookshop on fire. He said he’d get Aziraphale, and he did.’_

Crowley’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, the surface squeaking under the pressure. _‘He killed my angel. Aziraphale is dead because of him and he’s laughing. He’s laughing about it.’_

Crowley turned his eyes toward the inferno outside. Before now, he had thought that he could never be as angry at anyone as he was at God for casting him out, for making him Fall, just because he asked questions. It only took a few seconds of unthinking, all-consuming rage to convince him that he had been wrong. In that moment, all of his thoughts about what could happen to him were obliterated.

Now, Crowley only had one focus: revenge.

“Right,” he muttered, putting the Bentley into gear. He pulled away from the stalled lines of traffic and sped toward the wall of flame.

Hellfire could be considered one of the great mysteries of the universe. The first time it was unleashed was during the Great Fall. It burned the angelic qualities away from Her former servants and imbued them with their demonic traits. It did not transform every angel the same way, but it always left its mark on them.

And yet Hellfire could be as destructive to demons as it was to angels. No demon, aside from Lucifer, dwelled permanently within its flames, and in the darkest shadows of Hell, there were hushed rumblings about what effect constant exposure to Hellfire actually had on Satan.

Hellfire was rarely discussed, certainly not among humans or angels, but what was known was that it was both necessary to fuel a demon’s powers and toxic if taken in higher amounts than said demon could handle. That amount varied from demon to demon and the line between enough and too much was the tightrope they had to walk for eternity. Most likely another aspect of their punishment.

Crowley squeezed the steering wheel, his knuckles creaking. This blaze in the distance was pure Hellfire, untainted by any single demon’s intent. It could easily burn his corporation away. And perhaps his demonic essence too. But he wasn’t worried about any of that right now.

Instead, he was curious about how much of it Hastur could stand.

“What, Crowley, what are you doing?” Hastur croaked out. “Crowley, stop. Stop this.”

Crowley chuckled, a sound far more authentic than the one Hastur did earlier. “And you said I didn’t have anywhere else to run to. Not so sure anymore, are you? Let’s find out if you’re right.”

“What are you doing?!” A satisfying note of panic was bleeding into Hastur’s voice, and Crowley pushed his foot down onto the accelerator a little more. “Are you mad?”

Crowley let out a full-bodied laugh this time. Yes, he was mad, but not the way Hastur thought. He was angry, but he was also giddy from the rush that fury gave him. Every nerve in his body sang with the burning pulse of rage running through him.

“Stop this!” Hastur screeched. “What are you doing? You’ll discorporate us both!”

Crowley grinned at him. “Oh come on, Hastur. You said there was no point in resisting. So let’s stop resisting together. It’ll be just like going home.”

Soon, they were yards away from the flames. A sea of fire surrounded the Bentley, and Crowley could feel the heat rushing into the car from even the smallest cracks and crevices.

“Crowley stop!” Hastur screamed. “Stop it!”

Crowley laughed again, a high pitched crack coming at the end of it. “If you gotta go, go with style.”

The grin on his face was fixed, unmoving as Crowley drove the Bentley into the flames. It took less than a second for the car to be engulfed by the blaze. Hastur screeched and yelled even louder, but Crowley didn’t hear a word of it.

His world was burning. At last, his physical world matched the one inside his heart and head.

“Crowley, I hate you! I hate you!”

And with that, Hastur dissolved into a whoosh of sparks and ash. Discorporated before he was completely destroyed most likely. Or maybe not. Crowley couldn’t be sure and was far too pleased at the sight to care.

The Bentley rattled and groaned as the fire ate away at its structure, but Crowley refused to accept its destruction. He had done enough of that today. Nothing else he cared about would be destroyed for now and that was that.

Tongues of flame licked at the air around Crowley’s head, but he dismissed them with another laugh. He was fine. The Bentley was fine. Everything was ablaze, but it didn’t matter. None of it did.

He steered his flaming car toward Tadfield. There was still a chance that he’d get there in time to stop Armageddon. Or he might burn up on the journey.

_‘No. No, I’m making it to Tadfield. I’m getting to that airbase and…and doing something. Something that will stop Armageddon.’_

_‘That’s what Aziraphale…what Aziraphale would…’_

Crowley only let himself dwell on those thoughts for a moment before letting them turn into ash. The Hellfire continued to roar while the Bentley rattled with the exertion of high speed and higher heat that was threatening the structure of the car at the molecular level. But that was just background noise.

The fire surrounding Crowley could not match the conflagration feeding his occult power and consuming his soul.

_‘They sent me here to make trouble and that’s what I’ll do. I’ll fuck up Armageddon. Master of Fucking Shit Up, that’s me.’_

_‘God…Satan…they wanted this war, this Great Plan. They destroyed everything that got in its way. But they’re not going to get their precious war. I’ll burn the Great Plan away.’_

Crowley laughed again, ignoring the hiccup cutting it short. Anger was keeping him and the Bentley together. Hatred was giving him focus, making him powerful. That was all that mattered. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just posted a chapter, but as we reach the end of the posting window for the Bang, I will be putting up chapters much more frequently so I can finish in time. 
> 
> So enjoy a nice (long) update.

Up to this point, Arael hadn’t had many thoughts about the upcoming war.

She had known that it was important, the culmination of the Great Plan everyone had said, but she hadn’t contemplated what that would mean for her specifically. Other than there would be fighting…and no guarantees that all of God’s servants would survive the conflict. As a former attendant to a cherub, a guardian of Her Holy Throne, Arael had been familiar with the responsibilities an angel could shoulder as a warrior of Heaven and had done her best to internalize the devotion she had seen from the cherub she had accompanied.

However, all the effort she had put into becoming an exemplary servant of God had not prepared her for sneaking through the corridors of Heaven with the very angel she had tried to emulate.

“Com—Aziraphale, are you sure you want to go through with this?” she whispered as they looked around another corner. “Using the Visions Portal without authorization might be overlooked, but the Miracles Sphere…Gabriel is sure to disapprove.”

She watched Aziraphale shudder and could understand his reaction. Gabriel was usually all smiles, but he was also known to have little in the way of forgiveness for even the slightest infraction. There had been murmurs about the severe punishments an angel could be forced to endure. And Arael had heard rumors that Aziraphale had experienced the worst of them.

Then Aziraphale took a calm breath and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I imagine he will disapprove of all of my actions,” he said. “However, I am sure of this, yes. Now, are you clear on your part of this plan?”

“Yes, once we get to the Miracles Sphere, I shall intercept the attendant who will be coming on duty and distract them. But how should I distract them?”

“Er, I’m sorry, I haven’t got any ideas there,” Aziraphale replied. “You will have to use your initiative.”

“I understand,” Arael replied. She wished she had Aziraphale’s confidence that she had initiative in the first place, but the Commander already had enough to worry about. “But Aziraphale…usually there are two people who tend to the sphere during a given period. If I leave you alone, you might…you might be….”

“I might be discovered. Yes, I know,” Aziraphale said softly. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped. But you, Chasen and Theliel should be able to slip back to your platoon with no one suspecting anything beyond some pre-battle nervous behavior.”

“But Aziraphale, I….”

“No, no arguments. Stopping Armageddon is more important than any of us. Now, go.”

The last two words were spoken in a voice that Arael had not heard since her days following in the footpaths of a cherub who carried a flaming sword and who glowed with reverence for Her Presence. It was a voice that would allow no argument.

Instead she bowed her head slightly and placed her hand onto Aziraphale’s arm. “May you be forgiven,” she murmured before rushing away.

Arael knew that she should have stayed long enough to say more of a farewell, but she also knew that if she had, the pain forming in her heart might grow. Better instead to focus on the corridor in front of her and to think of a way to distract the attendant who was sure to be coming this way any moment now.

Perhaps arranging a visit to Processing and Acquisitions could be just the thing….

* * *

“Ye sure of what yer doing?” Shadwell shouted into Madame Tracy’s ear.

Tracy nodded, but kept most of her attention on the road, tightening her grip on the handlebars of her moped.

Mr. Aziraphale’s story had seemed incredible, if not nigh impossible, to believe. Then again, it was unlikely that an angel would show up just to share some boring tidbit about the upcoming day. Look at the bombshell they dropped on Mary in the Bible. Poor girl probably had more than a few seconds of disbelief herself.

Still, once Mr. Aziraphale explained himself, much of what she had seen in the news lately made a lot more sense. Like that bit about the nuclear plant or that nonsense about Atlantis being found. Nevertheless, with all these revelations regarding the End Times, Madame Tracy had expected her task to be far more monumental than what she had been given.

_“I need you to go to an airbase in a village called Tadfield near Oxford. There will be a boy there, Adam Young. You must find him and find a way to convince him to not end the world. I’ll try to give you some ideas about what to say to him later, if I can. Oh and just so you’ll know, he’s the Antichrist, so it’s terribly important that he’s found.”_

_“But just before any of that, there is one other thing that I need you to do….”_

Madame Tracy shook her head. What does one say to the person who is destined to destroy the world in order to talk them out of it? It was unlikely that the son of Satan would pay much attention to manners or reason. So what did that leave? She could hardly threaten to send him to bed early with no supper and a good spanking.

She felt the brush of metal against the back of her neck and frowned. When she told Mr. Shadwell about her vision and her instructions, he had been all ready to launch into his usual tirades about witches and demonic influences. Then Mr. Aziraphale appeared again, showed him some visions that only Mr. Shadwell could see, and that put an end to that. Although, it had been a shock for both her and Mr. Shadwell to learn that this angel was also the refined gentlemen who sometimes called Mr. Shadwell up for assignments.

Thankfully, Mr. Shadwell offered to go along and lend his assistance which she had hoped for. Unfortunately, he had also insisted on taking that ridiculous “Thunder-Gun” along in case he needed a weapon against “the ever present evil forces of witchcraft in our midst.” Well, aside from his finger which he claimed had suddenly gained a power of its own.

“Are ye daft, harlot?” Shadwell yelled. “There’s a wall of fire up ahead and yer heading right for it.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Shadwell,” she called back to him. “Mr. Aziraphale warned me about this and said he would take care of it.”

“Take care of it? With what? A fire extinguisher from St. Peter?”

To be honest, that wasn’t far off from what Madame Tracy had imagined Mr. Aziraphale would do, but she thought better of sharing that idea.

“That wall of fire is nae impossible to get through. It’s witchcraft, I tell ye. It was sure to show up at the end of the world, and here it is.”

Tracy’s fingers trembled, but she did not veer off from her course. Mr. Aziraphale had given his word that he would find a way to allow her to pass safely through the inferno. Still, his description of the barrier of fire around London did not do justice to the sight of the billowing blaze that was in front of her.

Her lips shuddered, but she pressed her foot down on the accelerator pedal. The word of an angel had to mean something, didn’t it? If you couldn’t trust an angel, who could you trust? No, she just had to have faith. That was what it was always about, wasn’t it? Just like all those other prophets and seers. They had _believed_ and that had been enough. This was simply a test, a test to see how deep her faith really was.

Fortunately for the world, Madame Tracy had always been able to let her faith carry her through the important moments in life.

The engine let out a spluttering roar as it pushed the moped a little bit faster. By now, they were so close to the fire, she could no longer see the sky.

And that was when she spotted it: a bright blue arc just in front of the flames. At first, it had looked like a shaft of light, but as she got closer, she could see that it had depth, solidness. In fact, it wasn’t just a light at all. It was a bridge.

“You might want to hold on a little tighter, Mr. Shadwell,” she shouted as she aimed her moped for the heavenly structure.

“Hold onto…I’ll do no such thing ye scarlet….”

The rest of Mr. Shadwell’s sentence was cut off by a startled whoop which was accompanied by a sudden pressure as a pair of arms squeezed Tracy’s torso. It hurt, but it was an understandable reaction to the moped swooping up the bridge of blue light and into the air over the wall of fire.

For a second, Tracy wasn’t sure how to respond to it herself. But then a giggle that turned into a full throated laugh came out as the moped picked up speed and raced across the sky. Really, it was a wonder that she and Mr. Shadwell didn’t tumble right off. Or maybe that was part of the miracle.

Whatever it was, Madame Tracy wasn’t worried about getting to Tadfield on time anymore.

* * *

Gabriel stared at Heaven’s skyline in front of him, acutely aware that this would probably be one of the last quiet moments he would have before the battle began.

Right now, the platoons of angels chosen for the first wave against the forces of Hell were making their final preparations. The Quartermaster was ideally efficient when it came to getting everyone in line, and Gabriel had no doubt that things would run smoothly under his watch. He would soon join the platoon he chose to lead, but first Gabriel wanted a moment to savor the victory he was certain would be coming.

“Excuse me, but there is something you should be aware of.”

Gabriel did his best to conceal his sigh and put an attentive smile on his face as he turned to the side to see Michael. Armageddon was starting and there were already more than enough things to be aware of. He definitely did not need to be distracted by some trivial matter that only had a tangential relation to the Great Plan.

Then again, Michael usually did not draw attention to themselves for the sake of the trivial.

“What is it?”

“The Earth Observation Unit has just noted some strange phenomenon occurring on Earth in the area known as England.”

Gabriel jiggled his shoulders back and forth, holding up his hands. “So? It’s the Apocalypse. There is bound to be numerous incidents of strange phenomenon happening on Earth right now.”

“Yes, but this didn’t come from the Earth,” Michael added as they approached. They held out a photograph which Gabriel took from them.

His brow furrowed as he studied it. There was the ring of Hellfire which had already been reported, but then he saw what must have caught the Observation Unit’s attention: a blur of light just in front of the fire.

“That definitely came from one of the Miracle Spheres here in the Main Office,” Michael added, crossing their hands in front of their waist. “But there has been no authorization to perform such a miracle.”

Gabriel continued to stare at the photograph. “Are all the Sphere attendants accounted for?”

“I’m checking into that now. There have also been other reports of suspicious activities.”

“Such as?”

“Uriel mentioned seeing Pahatron away from his post at the Divine Visions Portal. When she confronted him about it, he mentioned a request to get feedback from the platoons about any possible messages we might send to human prophets about Armageddon.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened. “Where is Aziraphale?”

“According to the Processing and Acquisitions Department, he returned to Heaven some time ago and had left to join his platoon,” Michael answered. “However, the Quartermaster has sent no word that Aziraphale has actually taken command.”

The corners of the photo between Gabriel’s fingertips crackled as holy light singed the surface away. “Find him. And then have him brought to me at once.”

Michael nodded and strode away. The photograph was turned into powdery ash before dissolving away, and Gabriel went back to gazing at Heaven’s skyline, struggling to tame his frustration.

An archangel’s duty was to ensure that the Great Plan would unfold as She had commanded. Nothing, especially not a wayward principality who needed correcting, could be allowed to hinder that Plan. No, this was simply a management problem, nothing more.

And Gabriel knew exactly how to take care of such problems.

* * *

Back on Earth, Anathema Device was also gripped by frustration, but not because she knew what she needed to do to solve her problem and couldn’t do it right away, but because she had no idea what to do at all.

In front of her was a solid looking chain link fence with tightly wound coils of barbed wire running along the top to discourage anyone from climbing over it. Newt had thrown a stick at it, and after seeing that it wasn’t electrically charged, he tried pulling at it and shaking it. Neither of which had any useful result.

Anathema ground her jaw. “We have got to get in. There’s got to be a way in here somewhere.”

“Maybe we should try closer to the main entrance,” Newton offered. “I mean, well, if the Antichrist is here, the guards might be distracted by him and we could try sneaking in.”

Anathema shook her head. The Book didn’t mention anything about waiting for the Antichrist to show up and hoping for the best. The whole point of Agnes’ prophecies was to enable her family to take an active role in stopping Armageddon, a role she had been destined to fill since birth.

She popped open the box of index cards and shuffled through them. “Come on, Agnes. You must have known about this. What am I supposed to do now?”

Anathema glanced over at Newton who was still fiddling with the fence. His suggestion about choosing random cards to guide her had been a ridiculous one, and yet it seemed to be working so far.

 _‘Might as well try it again.’_ She plucked out a card from the last third of the stack and scanned it.

**_“Frome a Chariot in the Skye, a hole shall appear behinde the Eagle’s Neste.”_ **

Anathema let out a huff. This was the same prophecy that made her look for a way in through the back gate in the first place. Her mother and her grandmother had worked it out when she was still a girl. There should have been some kind of opening here that they could use, but so far they had found nothing.

Agnes was never wrong. So how could…?

“What, what is that?!”

Anathema looked up and saw that Newt was pointing at the sky. She tilted her head, following his line of sight just in time to see a flash of blue. There was also the shrill whine of air shifting at high speeds. She thought she had heard the faint sound of yelling just as it rushed out of sight.

A moment later, a crash made them both jump. The two of them looked at each other before taking off in a run toward the sound. When they found the likely source of it, their confusion increased.

“That…that looks like a moped,” Newton said. “My aunt had one like it back in the ‘70s.”

Anathema gaped at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Once again, Newton Pulsifer had found a way to surprise her. Of all the things he could comment on, he hadn’t chosen the fact that this moped was flying in the sky or that it appeared to have no driver despite the pair of helmets that were lying on the ground nearby.

No, he mentioned one of his relatives having a similar one. And amazingly enough, it didn’t strike Anathema as the observation of a pathologically self-absorbed person. It was simply how Newt chose to process yet another bizarre event from a series of them that he had encountered today. With something mundane and homey.

However, she couldn’t dwell on this thought for long. Not when the mangled vehicle had created a fantastically convenient hole in the fence.

Anathema snapped her box shut and grabbed Newton’s hand.

“Come on. We might still have time to do something before Adam shows up.”

* * *

A couple minutes later, another pair of humans ended up using Newton’s idea to try the area closer to the front gate. Although their inspiration to do so had nothing to with his vocalizing the idea or with seeking guidance from the nicest and most accurate book of prophecy ever written.

Rather, it had come from an angel who had been most insistent that they put forth their best efforts to get in.

“Come along, Mr. Shadwell,” Madame Tracy said. She brushed off a few more leaves from her dress and then waved her hand at him. “We’ve got to hurry.”

Shadwell clomped toward her, his face still flushed, his breaths unsteady gasps. “Ye could have warned me that ye were going to crash yer bike. ‘Bout lost my grip on this here Thunder-Gun. Then where would we be, eh?”

Tracy stopped and turned toward him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You were the one who wanted to bring that silly thing along, not me. And besides, you told me that your finger could protect us.”

Shadwell held up his index finger, a look of pleased admiration on his face. “Aye, that’s true. But it’s better to be prepared for anything.”

Tracy threw her hands out. “I am sorry, but Mr. Aziraphale did say that it was dreadfully important that I make a hole in that fence, and he acted like that would be the best way to go about it. It had something to do with a prophecy.”

“Ye trying to tell me that there was a biblical prophecy about smashing yer motorbike into a fence?”

“Well…it wasn’t actually a biblical prophecy….”

Shadwell smiled and shook his finger at her until he suddenly realized what he was doing and tucked it under his armpit. “Ye see? Witchcraft, I’m telling ye. Mark my words, harlot, ye will see more signs of the black arts before this is over.”

“Yes, well, in the meantime, we should get to finding that boy who Mr. Aziraphale was talking about.”

Madame Tracy crouched down and crept closer to the fence. She paused when she saw the guard with a machine gun standing nearby and began to piece together what she could say so he would allow her and Mr. Shadwell into the base.

However, explanations like “we need to convince an eleven year old boy to not end the world” or “an angel came to me in a vision to warn me about Earth’s impending doom” while both truthful were also bound to cause far more complications.

Tracy frowned. She supposed that she could try contacting some of the guard’s departed loved ones, but that was always a gamble. Not everyone was a believer and military types were notoriously skeptical.

In the end, all this fretting turned out to be completely unnecessary. Not when a car that was engulfed with flames was zooming toward the front gate, providing a better distraction than any Tracy could have dreamed up.

She stood up and was vaguely aware of Shadwell moving to stand next to her, probably with a similar expression to the one currently on her face. The car raced at a steady speed, and there did appear to be someone in the driver’s seat who was both alive and currently operating said car.

Something which should have not been possible. Not when the car looked like…like…well, like it had gone through that wall of fire around London. Yes, just like that. Had someone actually managed to survive driving through those flames without ending up like that chicken she had tried to bake last Tuesday and forgot about while in the throes of a “psychic connection”?

The car skidded to a halt and the door popped open. Out came a lanky man with black clothes that were smoldering a bit on the edges. He had a head of bright red hair which was a sharp contrast to the pale, sooty face underneath it. He was holding a book in one hand that was also looking rather singed and was walking with a lurching swagger. Like someone who had to constantly remind himself how legs were supposed to work.

Shadwell stepped forward and pointed at the scene in front of them. “I know him. That’s Mr. Crowley.”

Fortunately, by this point, Madame Tracy had recovered enough from her shock to pay attention to what Shadwell said. “Isn’t, isn’t that one of your benefactors?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But how…how’d he…?”

Any further discussion on the matter was stopped when Crowley marched up to the guard at the gate, apparently intent on reasoning with him. Before much could happen, however; four children on bicycles rode up to the gate which immediately opened to let them ride on through.

This certainly agitated the guard who began yelling and motioning with his rifle.

“Hey!” Shadwell took a few more steps forward, still pointing. “Ye cannae go around waving yer guns at….”

His sentence remained unfinished once the guard vanished. Instead of trying to finish it, Shadwell stood there silently, his mouth hanging open as he drew back his hand, his eyes crossing as he stared at his fingertip.

Madame Tracy sighed and shook her head. She made a mental note to tell Mr. Shadwell later that he probably had nothing to do with the poor guard disappearing. She had seen that man, Mr. Crowley, make a motion upward with his hand just as it happened. Anyone who could drive from London in a flaming car would probably be able to make people vanish with little difficulty. There was no need to let Mr. Shadwell carry around any guilt over it.

She cautiously ambled over toward Mr. Crowley who was now on his knees staring at his car which had finally fallen to pieces. Tracy figured that he must be a supernatural figure too, like Mr. Aziraphale. Another angel, perhaps? Maybe Mr. Aziraphale sent him to help out on this divine mission.

Crowley picked up a starter crank from his car that had landed a few inches away from him and kissed it as he got back to his feet. Once Tracy got a glimpse of his eyes, her hands fluttered down to her chest.

As she continued to walk toward him, the only sounds she could hear were the click of her heels and the crackle of the fire consuming the wreck of the car. Crowley was still and silent, only a slight tremor in his hands indicating that he wasn’t a particularly life-like statue.

She got another look at his eyes, and a shiver ran through her. No…not an angel. Certainly not.

Mr. Crowley didn’t even glance at them as he sauntered away through the open gate. Tracy stood there, her hand still on her chest as she watched him walk away.

“Just what is Mr. Crowley doing here anyway?” Shadwell said as he appeared behind her.

Tracy took a shuddering breath and let her hand fall. “I don’t know. But I certainly hope that he’s here to help.”   



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes the lovely art that aerococonut drew for the Bang.

In a day of impossible things, Crowley was certain that he was now witnessing the most impossible of them all.

A few feet away from him was the Antichrist, the Adversary, the Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon and so on and so on, who had been standing face to face with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But instead of dispatching the Horsemen to their appointed tasks, the boy, along with some other children from the village, was trying to save the world.

The kids had already gotten rid of the other three Horsemen. Upon seeing this, Death apparently decided that there was no reason to stick around and left of their own volition. It was a heart-warming scene.

Too bad that it didn’t mean a thing.

“Hey you there, um, boy,” Crowley said. “What’s your name?”

The boy turned his gaze toward him with eyes that were eerily calm considering how they had just watched the personifications of death and destruction appear before them.

“Adam Young.”

“Well Adam, nice job taking care of the Horsemen. Gold star for you,” Crowley replied. “Still doesn’t mean a thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

Crowley looked over to see a young women with long, dark hair and glasses march over to him, dragging a nerdy and astonished looking man behind her.

“We just saved the world,” she added. “Just like Agnes….” She paused and raised a finger at him. “You. You stole my book.”

_‘Thought she looked familiar.’_ Crowley raised the book up. “Ah, Book Girl.”

The woman’s lips pressed into a line. “My name is Anathema Device. And what did you do to my book?”

“Sorry, little mishap on the M25,” Crowley said. “Here. Catch.”

He tossed the book over to her and she caught it with ease just as Shadwell marched up with an older woman in an attractive dressed marched up behind them.

“Ye…Mr. Crowley what…?”

Crowley ignored him and turned his focus back on Adam. “Heaven and Hell still want their war. Stopping the Horsemen doesn’t change that.”

Every word became a bitter sting in the pit of his stomach as he said them. Soon, Crowley became aware of a wave of disappointment that was filling him.

Throughout his quest to get to Tadfield, he had been driven by a single goal: to thwart the Antichrist so as to prevent Armageddon. There was something perverse about a demon attempting to do the thwarting for a change, but there it was. It had been the one thing holding his sanity intact beneath the grief that was crushing him. It had been the inspiration that enabled him to keep a vintage Bentley that was being ravaged by Hellfire in working order long enough to drive it all the way from London. It had sharpened his anger and hate into a weapon that could fuck up Divine and Infernal plans.

When he crystallized this goal and burned it into what remained of his soul, Crowley hadn’t expected the Antichrist to have the same goal as him. Or to suddenly realize that stopping Armageddon went beyond the decisions of the Antichrist.

So, with that laid out in front of him…what was his purpose now?

Crowley didn’t have long to contemplate that question. A flash of lightening and a burst of smoky flame heralded the arrival of the Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub. And neither of them looked amused.

Crowley scowled and made a show of bowing and waving his hands around. “Lord Beelzebub, how nice to see you again.”

Beelzebub narrowed zer eyes at him. “Crowley, the traitor. Hell hazzn’t forgotten about you. You will be dealt with, that I promizz.”

Crowley’s eye twitched. He had no doubt that Beelzebub meant it and that things would soon escalate from Hell’s agents politely escorting back Downward. Not that there was much point in dwelling on that right now.

For right now, Beelzebub and Gabriel had much bigger concerns to think about.

“That one,” Gabriel announced, pointing. “Adam Young.” He and Beelzebub walked over to Adam. Once he was close, Gabriel bent down. “Young man, Armageddon must…restart. Now. We have to begin the final conflict between Heaven and Hell.”

Adam lifted incredulous eyes up to meet Gabriel’s gaze. “You both want to end the world just to see whose gang is best?”

And that was where the conversation reached a standstill. Not from lack of trying on Gabriel and Beelzebub’s parts. Adam said little as the two of them first tried threats….

“Young man, you exist for one reason: to end the world. So get to it or there will be consequences.”

And then temptations….

“Adam, if you restart Armageddon, the world will be yourzz when it’zz over. Wouldn’t you like to rule the world?”

But none of it worked against a weary eleven year old who had already made up his mind about something and had the reality-altering powers to make it happen.

As this went on, Crowley marveled at what he could sense unfolding. He had expected Beelzebub and Gabriel to be confused by Adam’s refusal to destroy the Earth. Hell knows he certainly was. But he hadn’t thought that this revelation would stymie them to complete inaction.

Crowley almost laughed when the truth became clear to him: Heaven and Hell simply could not cope with an outcome where the Great Plan, the guiding principle of their actions for millennia, fell apart due to the resolve of one boy.

Eventually, Beelzebub and Gabriel gave up, convinced that there would be no budging of a child who could nullify their promises and threats with a wave of his hand.

“You’re a disobedient brat,” Gabriel spat at him. “And I hope that someone tells your father.”

“Oh they will,” Beelzebub said, zer voice surprisingly soft. “And hizz father will not be pleazzed.” Then ze looked back up. “Until later, Crowley.”

And with that, Beelzebub and Gabriel vanished in swishes of colored light.

Everyone, including Crowley let out a cautious sigh of relief. Was that all? Had Armageddon actually been prevented just because Adam had been stubborn enough to side with his home rather than his heritage?

An answer came to Crowley seconds later when a spike of pain raced through him.

“No! Nononononono!”

The pain drove him to the ground which had started to rumble and quake. Crowley pressed a hand to his chest as another surge of agony overtook him. Rage. Rage and hate for every living thing rolled over him like a rushing tide.

“What’s happening!?” Anathema shouted.

“They did it,” Crowley intoned, still lying on the ground. “They told his father.”

“His father?” Anathema repeated. She rushed over to him and crouched down. “You, you mean that….”

“Yeah,” Crowley said as he sat up, gritting his teeth. “Exactly. Satan is coming, and this isn’t about Armageddon or the War anymore. This is personal. We are fucked!”

Anathema’s mouth dropped open while the nerdy guy ran over to her, holding out his arm so she could cling to him.

The ground shook again, throwing all of the humans off balance. Shadwell shouted empty threats while Anathema held onto the human she called Newt and begged Crowley to come up with something. Crowley didn’t have the heart to tell her that there wasn’t anything to do.

Then a sob caught Crowley’s attention. He looked over to see the children huddle around Adam, tears in their eyes. Meanwhile, Adam was staring at him with a look that Crowley could have never dreamed of seeing on the Antichrist’s face: pleading.

“I don’t like this,” the child with glasses yelled.

“Adam!” the girl shouted, her voice wobbling. “Make it stop.”

An ancient ache resonated in Crowley’s heart. Memories of children begging for the very same thing swamped his mind: tears as the Flood began, screams as fire destroyed London, wails as bombs fell from the sky.

_“Make it stop! Make it stop!”_

Crowley ground his jaw as he got to his feet. Not this time. Every other time, he hadn’t been able to interfere beyond the smallest rebellions. This time, he’d make it stop, even if it was only for a moment.

He thrust his hands upward, drawing on reserves of power he wasn’t aware that he had.

_‘STOP IT!’_

* * *

When his head finally cleared enough to take in his surroundings again, Crowley blinked at the sloping mounds of white-tan sand all around him. He was just outside time now, standing in between seconds.

Well, him and the Antichrist.

His wings, black as a raven’s, were extended as they also existed outside the normal physical plane. Adam looked bemused by his current location, but clearly was not fussed by it.

“Are you a demon?” he asked, glancing back and forth across Crowley’s wingspan.

Crowley pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his coat pocket and slipped them on. “Yes. I delivered you to the nuns who gave you to the people who raised you.”

“To Mum and Dad?” A mess of emotions swam across Adam’s face until he finally settled back with the calm he had had earlier. “Thank you. But…aren’t you supposed to be trying to destroy things too?”

Crowley shrugged. “Like you, I decided that the Earth is better as it is. But that’s not what your father wanted. He wanted Armageddon and now he is angry and is coming to destroy you. Probably to destroy all of us.”

“My dad?” Adam responded, bewildered. “My dad wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Not your Earthly father. I’m talking about Satan, the One Who Is No Longer In Heaven. He’s coming and only you can stop him.”

“Me?” Adam said. “But I’m just a kid. What am I supposed to do? Fight him?”

Crowley felt his heart sink. “I don’t think that would work. You’ll have to try something else. Something different like you did with the Horsemen.”

“I can’t,” Adam said, his shoulder slumping. “I can’t have Brian and Pepper and Wensley stand with me against him. If he’s that mad…what can anyone do to stop him?”

_‘What indeed?’_ Crowley frowned. Adam might be able to bend reality to his will, but Lucifer would find a way to fight around that. Satan had pretty much unlimited power due to the hatred inside him that burned as hot as the Hellfire that….

_“My dear….”_

Crowley’s eyes widened as something inside him cracked open. Images of snow white feathers sheltering him from the first rainfall filled his brain.

_“Love….Someone really loves this place….”_

_‘Aziraphale….’_

Forcing himself to swallow through the tightness in his throat, Crowley walked over and knelt down in front of Adam.

“Adam, you can’t fight him, not directly. But there is something you can use to face him.”

“What’s that?”

“Love,” Crowley answered. “You love this place, yeah? This village. And you love your mum and dad and your friends. That’s why you didn’t go through with Armageddon, right?”

“Well…yeah,” Adam said. “This is all the world I want.”

“And that’s what you must use to face him,” Crowley said. “Satan won’t understand any of that. He won’t understand that when you love someone….” His breath caught, almost choking him, but he pressed on. “When you love something, it gives you the will to fight, just as much as anger does. Maybe even more so.”

Crowley stood back up. “Reality will listen to you right now, Adam. So use that love to do…whatever it is you’re going to do.”

Adam stared at him, and Crowley realized with a clammy dread that the boy was looking at him with far more than just his eyes.

“All right,” Adam said. “I will. Will…will you…?”

Crowley held out a hand to him. “I’m not going anywhere. But once I start time again, you won’t have long.”

“I understand.”

Crowley nodded, his features grim, before lifting the Bentley’s starter crank and turning it, winding them back into the flow of time.

In an instant, they were back on the airfield strip and were just in time to watch Lucifer, King of Hell, rise up out of the ground to meet them. Satan bellowed for his son, and Adam gave Crowley one last look before letting go of his hand and walking over.

Then Crowley watched, stunned, as the love of a boy for his father, the father he knew in his heart, triumphed over the darkness.

“You’re not my dad! You never were.”

And with those words, Satan dissolved away in plumes of black smoke. Armageddon was undone. In fact, it never happened. Never even started.

Once the smoke had cleared, everyone could see Arthur Young drive onto the tarmac, park his car, and then get out with an indignant look on his face.

“Could someone please explain to me what is going on here?”

Shadwell and Madame Tracy swiftly snuck away. Anathema opened her mouth to speak, but abruptly stopped when she had a chance to look around.

“What is it?” Newt asked.

“Where did he go?” she answered. “That guy, the one who had my book. He was just here.”

Adam blinked and turned around in a circle. The demon, the one the others called Crowley, was nowhere to be found.

Anathema clutched her hands together. “I was going to ask him….” She stopped and shook her head. “I don’t think it matters now.”

“Was he, was he not really human either?” Newt asked. Anathema nodded. “Do you think he’ll try something?”

“No,” she replied. “It’s just….” She looked down at the book in her hands. “We just saved the world, right? So why did he look so…sad?”

Adam’s brow furrowed. His dad was getting ready to launch into the biggest lecture he had ever given. And yet, all he could think about was the question Anathema had just asked.

* * *

Back in Heaven, Gabriel scowled as Uriel brought her prisoner before him.

As he approached, Aziraphale wasn’t able to stop himself from flinching. He had seen that look on Gabriel’s face before. Or at least something very similar to it. These looks were frequently directed at him, for his various shortcomings as an angel or for the mistakes and purposeful infractions the archangel had noticed over the millennia.

But this, this was something far angrier than it had been any of those times before. Anger with something that almost looked like…regret.

“We found him near one of the Miracle Spheres,” Uriel said as she motioned Aziraphale forward.

Sandalphon, apparently displeased with Aziraphale’s shuffling pace, came up behind him and gave him a hard shove which made Aziraphale stumble, but did not stop his approach.

“And what was he doing there?” Gabriel asked. Then he waved his hand. “No, don’t bother. It’s not difficult to figure it out. There wasn’t any way that that demon could have been acting alone.”

Gabriel moved closer to Aziraphale, his arms crossed below the waist. “What I don’t get is why, Aziraphale? Did he tempt you into it? Or are you just that bad of an angel? Or maybe…maybe you just want to Fall. Is that it? Do you want to Fall, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale gasped. “No, of course not. I would never….”

A sharp punch to his lower back cut Aziraphale off, forcing him down to his knees. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that Sandalphon was responsible for that too.

“You say you don’t want to Fall, and yet you conspire with a demon to thwart the Apocalypse and interfere with the Great Plan.” Gabriel paced back and forth in front of him. Then he stopped and crouched down. “I’m sorry, buddy, but that sure sounds like Fall-worthy behavior to me.”

“No.” Aziraphale groaned and raised himself back up so he was on one knee. “I was thinking of Earth, of the humans we’re supposed to protect. They would have been killed if there had been a war. Surely, the greater good….”

The knee that Aziraphale was supporting himself on was suddenly kicked out from under him, sending him sprawling onto his back on the floor. He looked up in time to watch Sandalphon deliver another kick to his ribs and then another that landed directly onto the old injury Aziraphale had suffered to his leg during the Great Rebellion. This finally brought forth a harsh cry of anguish from his lips.

“Commander!”

_‘Oh no…please no….’_

Aziraphale rolled over onto his side and watched as Michael guided Arael, Chasen and Theliel into the room.

“I found his accomplices,” Michael reported. “Members of his own platoon.”

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he turned to look up at Gabriel. “No, please,” he croaked out. “They were only following my orders. They didn’t….”

“So it wasn’t enough for you to make yourself Fall,” Gabriel said, a sneer on his lips. “You had to drag your subordinates down with you.” He reached down and grabbed Aziraphale by the collar, hoisting him up. “And don’t talk to me about the Greater Good, sunshine. I’m the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.”

He let Aziraphale go and stood back up, smoothing down his jacket. “The Greater Good was that we would settle things with Hell once and for all and finally fulfill the Great Plan.” He glared down at Aziraphale. “Instead, you ruined everything, just like you are prone to do. And you even beguiled others into your traitorous plot.”

“He did not beguile us! Aziraphale was right.” Arael took a couple of long strides forward, her chin lifting upward. “We are angels, agents of Her love. We are supposed to guard and guide humanity, not destroy it.”

Theliel took a deep breath and moved to stand next to Arael. “If not that…then what is our purpose? We were meant to serve God, and she told us to watch over them.”

Chasen gulped and took a shaky breath before joining them. “Um, I agree. With them. I mean, we were supposed to be stopping Hell from destroying them. So why would we destroy them instead?”

Gabriel snorted. “Who told you that? Him?” He waved a hand at Aziraphale who struggled to rise back up to his knees. “Did we spare the humans from the Flood? Did we stop any of the World Wars from ravaging the planet? Did we shield humanity from Pestilence during the 1300s? No we didn’t, and do you know why? Because it was all part of the Great Plan. And Armageddon was the culmination of that plan.”

Gabriel paused and moved backward to stand next to Sandalphon. “Were the humans going to be destroyed? Of course, but that was never the deciding factor in executing the Great Plan.”

Aziraphale stifled a moan as he finally stood back up. The pain burning in his torso and his leg was nothing compared to the ache in his heart as his allies had tried to reason with Gabriel. He knew it was no use. Gabriel had an answer for every one of their questions and doubts. All of them neat and tidy and sanctified in the assurance of righteousness all archangels had.

Three lowly solider angels would not have any chance of swaying Gabriel’s authority, and Aziraphale was certain that they already knew it. Nevertheless, they were trying anyway. For his sake.

Just like Crowley. Crowley, a demon who had believed in an angel, in the Earth. A demon who defied Hell because he loved the world and humanity and….

_‘Love? Yes…yes, because Crowley loved.’_

_“How long have we been friends? Six thousand years….”_

_‘Oh…oh my dearest Crowley….’_

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale said with a cough.

Gabriel let out a loud huff. “Aziraphale, you’ve already caused enough trouble, so maybe you should just keep your stupid mouth shut, hmm?”

“It’s just…you keep talking about the Great Plan,” Aziraphale said.

“Yes, the Great Plan,” Gabriel replied, throwing out his hands in front of him. “We’re all supposed to be familiar with it, although I’m starting to have my doubts about you.”

“Yes, yes, the battle between Heaven and Hell and all that,” Aziraphale continued. His hands fluttered down to his waistcoat to give it a grounding tug. “But is that also God’s Ineffable Plan?”

Despite all the verses written about the joyful noises of praise, Heaven was actually a quiet place. Sound did not travel any further than was absolutely necessary and thus, most angels rarely spoke above hushed tones.

And yet, somehow, Aziraphale’s question had managed to make an already quiet place even more devoid of sound.

Naturally, it was Gabriel who broke that silence, an incredulous look on his face. “Well…they’re the same thing. Have to be.”

“Ah, but how can any of us know that?” Aziraphale countered. “The Ineffable Plan is by definition…er, ineffable. So it’s incapable of being put into words and unknowable to all except God.”

Gabriel’s mouth fell open as he looked over at his fellow archangels, probably for assistance. However, as Aziraphale turned to glance at them, it was clear that they were as confounded as Gabriel to come up with a way to refute him.

“It…it must be ineffable because you were right Gabriel.” Then Aziraphale turned to Arael. “And you were right too, my dear.” Then he turned back toward the archangels. “God did bring about the Flood, but then She created a rainbow as a promise to never do it again. She did allow the Black Death, but She had also sent the Holy Son to sacrifice Himself for humanity.”

Aziraphale blinked his eyes slowly, seeing golden eyes in his mind and swallowing down a sob before continuing.

“It’s love. Love with a purpose so vast and so…so….”

“Ineffable?” Chasen offered. Aziraphale smiled at him.

“Yes, exactly that. Ineffable. Beyond what any of us could possibly know. Armageddon might not have been Her end goal after all. It might have simply been a test or a warning. Or even a way to further Her true Ineffable Plan.”

The archangels stared at him with stony expressions while Aziraphale felt his insides quake.

_‘Please. Please, if not for my sake, then for Arael’s and Chasen’s and Theliel’s._

_For Crowley’s….’_

_‘Please let this work.’_

Gabriel sighed. “Whew, Aziraphale…you really have been down there way too long. I’m afraid there’s no hope for you.”

Uriel and Michael ushered the soldier angels closer and to the side while Sandalphon shoved Aziraphale back onto his knees.

“Aziraphale!” Arael cried. She started to go toward him, but Michael held up a warning hand.

“Heaven has no place for traitors,” Gabriel continued. “Or for angels who don’t even try to be obedient. Aziraphale, this was a long time coming.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. Gabriel was going to make him Fall. It had to be. Or he would simply destroy him. No other punishment would be sufficient for thwarting the Great Plan in Gabriel’s eyes.

He felt his hands begin to tremble and clasped them against his knees. No, none of that. Arael, Chasen and Theliel were likely terrified and the last thing they needed was for him to reveal his own horror over what was about to happen.

Besides, Falling might not be all that bad. It couldn’t be. Not when Crowley….

Aziraphale’s heart constricted _. ‘Crowley, oh is he all right? Did anything happen to him while Armageddon was trying to start? Did Hell’s agents catch up to him?’_

_‘Or is he safe in Alpha Centauri? Oh please let him have left. Please let him be free and….’_

“Aziraphale, you….”

“Halt, Gabriel.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open and they widened when he saw the Metatron hovering over all of them.

“My Lord,” Gabriel spluttered. “I was just about to….”

“God has made a decision regarding Aziraphale,” the Metatron continued. “Her will shall be done.”


	6. Chapter 6

There were few things that could bother Adam Young for any significant amount of time.

Sure there were the usual annoyances, like boring book reports, Greasy Johnson lobbing spitballs at him during class or the corner store running out of chocolate ice cream, but these were just passing irritants. They weren’t anything that could stick with Adam and distract him from the adventurous ideas that were always lurking in his mind.

However, if there was one thing that could grate on his nerves it was the feeling that he was missing something.

Adam sighed and scratched behind Dog’s ears. He was definitely missing out on the sunny day outside and the promise of finding new games to share with the rest of The Them, but he didn’t regret that as much as he thought he would. Stopping the Apocalypse had been an important thing to do, and even more certain was the sense that it had been the right thing. Adam was sure of it even when Satan was yelling at him just like grumpy old Mr. Tyler always did for whatever reason he could think of.

When his father showed up and asked what was going on, Adam realized that it would be better to keep that thought to himself and that the world should go back to how things were before Heaven and Hell started messing around. That meant fixing things that had been broken, rebuilding what had been destroyed and bringing people back to the lives they should be having.

Unfortunately, not telling anyone about this meant that Dad had nothing to stop him from giving the sternest lecture he had ever delivered and then grounding him for an undetermined amount of time.

Adam looked out the window and let his feet swing back and forth. He didn’t feel all that bad about the grounding, although he knew that would change if the rumors he had heard about a circus coming turned out to be true. But there was still something that felt…off. Like something was undone. And Adam did not like it.

Trapped in the house and too distracted to enjoy his stories and hobbies, Adam tried cleaning his room. When he finished, he had the fleeting thought that Dad might take some time off from however long he would be grounded, but even that didn’t give him the satisfaction Adam hoped it would.

Dog lifted his head to give him a quizzical look, and Adam wondered if sneaking out might be worth it after all.

“Adam?”

Adam looked up to see his mother, Deidre, standing in his bedroom doorway.

“Adam you…why, your room. It looks wonderful.”

Adam smiled at her. “Thanks, Mum. Um…could I take Dog out back later?”

The smile on Deidre’s face twisted into a wry expression. “You haven’t forgotten that you’re grounded already, have you?”

“No, but Dog didn’t do anything. He shouldn’t be punished too. Please, Mum. It’ll just be to the back garden, I promise.”

Deidre stared at Adam for a long moment before letting out a long sigh.

“Oh all right, but the garden and no further, understand? Your father is still trying to decide on your punishment, so don’t go making things even more difficult.”

“I won’t.”

Deidre nodded, looked like she was about to say something, and then decided on another tack.

“Adam…what did happen at the airbase? Your father said that you never did explain yourself.”

Adam gazed at her, the whole truth sitting on the tip of his tongue like a tiger eager to pounce. But like a tiger, the whole truth was dangerous.

“I just needed to figure something out,” he said with a shrug.

“I see. Then I hope you got whatever answers you were looking for.”

“I think so.” Adam’s eyebrows scrunched together. “But….”

“But?”

He let out a loud huff. “I keep thinking I’m missing something. Like when you get a kit for a wicked spaceship and you put it together, but they left a part out of the box. So you got a spaceship, but something isn’t working right and you don’t know what.”

Deidre gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well maybe the part isn’t missing. Maybe you just need to ask someone who would know how to finish it.”

Adam’s brow furrowed even more, and Deidre took a step into the room. “Adam…?”

The tiger sprang to his tongue again, but Adam stopped it with a smile. “Thanks Mum.” Then he flopped onto his back on the bed.

Deidre could sense the hint and nodded as she went back into the hall, pulling the door closed as she went.

Meanwhile, Adam was thinking again, but this time, his mind wasn’t on being grounded or his room or a possible circus. He had gotten an idea about who he could ask his questions to, but wasn’t sure how he would be able to do it.

Then he figured if he concentrated hard enough, his questions would reach who they needed to.

* * *

The slowly spinning globe that hovered in one of Heaven’s corridors rarely got much attention.

It was simply a tool for making contact with humanity and a reminder of duties that needed to be performed. Most angels didn’t even glance at it as they milled around other than to make sure to avoid colliding with it while on their hover-boards.

However, there was one angel who could not take his eyes off of it. An angel who was currently seated in a plush chair against a pillar so he could gaze at it without interruption.

Aziraphale sighed and immediately regretted how the deeper breath sent a jolt of pain racing through his chest. Sandalphon’s blows had injured him all the way to his true angelic form. No one in Heaven, aside from God Herself, could speed his healing along. Thus, Theliel had been kind enough to miracle up a chair so he could rest without too much discomfort while Arael had been the one to think of placing it here, in a place where he could watch the Earth.

He then took a much more careful breath, but his eyes still began to sting. If he could, he would run for the nearest exit that would return him to Earth. But without a body, it was futile. For now, Aziraphale knew he would have to resign himself to the reality that he was staying in Heaven.

Besides, he really should be grateful for how everything had turned out.

* * *

_“You…She…what?!?” Gabriel spluttered. “But, but the Great Plan….”_

_“She has spoken,” the Metatron droned. “Aziraphale is not to be punished. He shall not Fall. Nor shall the angels working on his behalf be punished. All is going to plan. Carry on with your duties, Gabriel. That is all.”_

_The Metatron dissolved away leaving a group of shocked and confused angels in its wake._

_“What just happened?” Uriel muttered, fidgeting where she stood._

_Gabriel looked at her, a hand raised, but his lips moved with no actual sound coming out. Sandalphon stood nearby, staring at Gabriel with silent helplessness._

_It was Michael who found a response first._

_“You three,” they said, motioning at Arael, Chasen and Theliel. “It’s time that you returned to your duties. Follow me.”_

_The three of them looked over at Aziraphale who nodded. Slowly, reluctantly, they followed Michael out of the room._

_“I better make sure the Quartermaster isn’t preparing any more platoons for battle,” Uriel said._

_“Yes,” Gabriel said, waving a hand at her. “You, you do that.”_

_Uriel nodded and gave one last questioning look at Aziraphale before leaving. Once she was gone, Aziraphale gingerly lifted himself to his feet, groaning as he did._

_“It appears that Armageddon wasn’t part of Her Ineffable Plan after all. So if I’m not needed for anything else, I would like to return to my assignment on Earth.”_

_Gabriel glared at him, and Aziraphale wasn’t able to stop his reflexive flinch. The Metatron might have said that he wouldn’t be punished, but Aziraphale knew better than to think that that would completely protect him._

_Then Gabriel smiled and that was even worse._

_“Aziraphale, I know that you’re not stupid enough to think that you can go back to Earth without a body.” His voice dripped with patronizing sweetness which made dread stir inside Aziraphale._

_“I am aware of that,” he replied, a tremor on the edges of his voice. “So if you could please instruct the P &A to assign me another body, I can just….”_

_The smile on Gabriel’s face grew as he reached over and gave Aziraphale a pat on the shoulders that left them aching._

_“Aziraphale, you just finished a six thousand year assignment on Earth. It’s time you took a break from your duties and put your talents to other uses, don’t you think?”_

* * *

Aziraphale’s eyes flicked away from the globe, his breath hitching. Of course, Gabriel didn’t frame his commands as a punishment. That would have put him in opposition to the Almighty’s Will. But it _was_ a punishment just the same.

Presently, he had no official duties and was instructed to rest from his “strenuous ordeal” while Gabriel decided which department would benefit from Aziraphale’s addition to their ranks. Aziraphale had hoped be sent to a library or research department, but unfortunately, he had overheard Nelchael tell Michael that he could use some extra help in Processing and Acquisitions.

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale swiveled in his chair to see Arael, Chasen and Theliel approaching him.

“Oh. Oh, I….” He started to get up, wincing as he did so, but they all held up hands to stop him.

“No, don’t get up,” Arael insisted. “We just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“And see if there is anything you need,” Theliel added.

Aziraphale lowered himself back down, a wan smile on his face. “Thank you, I am quite well. And this chair was very thoughtful of you, so thank you for that as well. Now, how are all of you?”

Three more chairs suddenly appeared and the angels sat down.

“I am fine,” Theliel murmured. “I shall be returning to the islands in the southern part of Earth to watch over the animals who live away from any human settlements.”

“Ah. That sounds nice…but perhaps a touch lonely?”

Theliel shrugged. “My only other duties have been transferring records from P&A. The animals are companionable and lively enough to make caring for them far more pleasurable.”

“And I am starting my first assignment on Earth,” Arael announced. “I’m to watch over the churches, synagogues, and temples in a couple of small towns in a place called Scotland. I, I hope I’ll do well. I’ve never watched over humans directly.”

Aziraphale reached over and patted her hand. “I’m sure you will do a wonderful job. And Scotland is lovely. If you ever get the chance, you should pop over to London in England. There…there are enchanting parks there. Do visit St. James’ Park if you can.”

His breath hitched again. _‘No, stop that.’_ “Feed the ducks. They are surprisingly friendly and enjoy the attention. But don’t give them bread. It turns out that bread is actually not very good for them.”

Aziraphale felt his lip wobble, took another breath to steady himself, and turned to Chasen. “And you? How are you faring?”

“Oh um.” Chasen let out a short laugh. “Back to the usual for me: a page between the Observation Unit and the Miracle Spheres in the Sapphire wing. I don’t mind that. In fact, I always enjoyed it. I get to hear about things happening all over the Earth.”

Aziraphale managed something close to a smile for him. “Then I’m glad that you were able to go back to the duties you like best.”

“Yes, um, kind of surprised, really.” Chasen looked down into his lap, his fingers tugging at the material of his slacks. Aziraphale’s face fell.

“Chasen? Is something wrong?”

Chasen didn’t respond at first, continuing to study his lap while the other three angels watched him. Aziraphale was about to try again when Chasen leaned forward.

“Did we do the right thing?” he said in a small voice. “The Great Plan, it…we followed it for so long. Did so many things in the name of it. Are we sure that this…well, that this is what She wanted?”

Arael and Theliel’s eyes grew wide as they darted back and forth between Chasen and Aziraphale. It was soon clear to Aziraphale, though, that Chasen had asked the question that was weighing heavily on all three of them.

“We didn’t Fall. That would have been our punishment if we had disobeyed on such an enormous scale as that.”

Theliel shifted in their chair. “Is that truly an answer?”

Aziraphale smiled at them. “No, I suppose it’s not. To be quite honest, I don’t know if there will ever be a definite answer. She has always kept everything close to her chest, to borrow a phrase from a human pastime.”

“I guess there wouldn’t be,” Chasen said, his head still down. “But others…er, I’ve heard it said that maybe we messed things up. That maybe what we did was selfish and unbecoming of angels.”

Aziraphale frowned. Although none of them were saying it aloud, it was no surprise that all three of them were now in isolated jobs, duties that kept them at arm’s length from other angels. It was likely that their association with him was making them pariahs in Heaven, a thought that made his heart ache. Aziraphale had resigned himself to this sort of fate millennia ago.

But he was still startled over how much it hurt to see other angels ostracized in the same way.

“Arael, Theliel, Chasen…I know that the decision you made to assist me was a difficult one, and that you will probably experience repercussions from it for a long time. Perhaps for all eternity.” Aziraphale leaned forward, pointedly ignoring the pain that the movement caused.

“But never forget that, as angels, love is our highest duty. Love for Her and love for the world we are stewards to. What we did was borne out of that love. So never doubt yourselves for following through with our true purpose for being.”

Relief flickered in the other angels’ eyes as they reached over to clasp his hands.

“Aziraphale, we are so sorry,” Arael said. “We all know that you long to return to Earth. It’s only because Gabriel….”

Aziraphale shook his head vigorously. “Mind your words, Arael,” he said in a stern voice. Then he pulled his hands away and fell back against his chair.

“It isn’t so terrible as that. I’m still an angel and can continue to reside in Her Grace. I am certain that I will find a new purpose to dedicate myself to.”

The angels smiled and nodded at him, but Aziraphale could see the strain in their faces. They rose up, the chairs vanishing once they were standing.

“Aziraphale, if there is ever anything we can do….” Arael began.

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I can never thank any of you enough. May She bless you and keep you.”

“And you,” Theliel said. “Commander.”

Each of them gave a slight bow before walking away. Once they were gone, Aziraphale turned his eyes back toward the projection of Earth.

_‘What will happen to the bookshop? Will another angel care for it? Or will a human take it over? Will anyone take care of the books? Oh…what will happen to them?’_

Aziraphale blinked rapidly. He thought about elderly Mrs. Barclay and the coffees they shared once a month to help her stave off the loneliness she suffered with from her husband’s passing. He thought of dear Holly, a teenager who stopped by whenever she was overwhelmed by her situation at home which had deteriorated ever since she introduced her parents to her girlfriend. He thought of Mr. Snuggles, the poor homeless cat who he fed and allowed to sleep in the backroom of the shop while he searched for a new home for it.

_‘And Crowley…my dearest Crowley….’_

The tears finally rolled down Aziraphale’s cheeks. Was Crowley still in this galaxy? Aziraphale had heard that everything was safe and well on Earth due to the Antichrist stopping Armageddon. So was Crowley back in his flat, tending to his plants? Or driving much too fast in the Bentley? Or was he wandering among the planets of Alpha Centauri, safe from Hell’s agents? He might never know.

He might not ever see Crowley again.

Aziraphale hunched over, covering his face with his hands. He didn’t care who saw him weep anymore. As more tears fell, his sobs came up from deeper channels of his heart.

_“Aziraphale…”_

His head jerked up, and he swiped at his face as he tried to locate the source of the voice he had heard.

Suddenly, he saw a woman in front of him. A woman with eyes like white-blue stars and long hair that cascaded down her shoulders in waves of silver. She smiled at him as he glanced over to see a blond, curly-haired boy standing next to her.

“Please don’t cry,” the boy said. He took a step forward. “You are Aziraphale, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale sniffed and nodded as he wiped away more tears. “Yes, I am. And who might you be?”

“Adam Young.”

Aziraphale gasped and shivered. Adam Young? The Antichrist? The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit…but how could he be here?

And more importantly…why was he here and how did he know who he was?

“I brought him here, Aziraphale,” the woman answered. Her voice wrapped around Aziraphale’s soul like the warmest, softest blanket that ever existed. “He had some questions only I could answer.”

Adam moved closer. “I met a friend of yours. Said his name was Crowley.”

A couple of more tears fell even as Aziraphale smiled. “Oh. Oh you met Crowley? You….” He coughed. “Is he all right?”

“Sort of,” Adam said. “He helped me figure out how to stop the end of the world. But he kept thinking about you. He misses you, you know.”

Aziraphale laughed, but a sob came out at the end of it. “And I miss him very much. But I’m afraid I might not be back to see him for a very long time. Could you, could you tell him that…?”

“Nah, don’t worry, that’s why I’m here,” Adam interrupted. “I tried to set everything back to how it was, but something was missing.” He turned to the woman beside him. “She helped me figure it out.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, unsure of what else to say.

The woman beamed at him. “Aziraphale, has it truly been so long?”

Aziraphale gazed up at her, awareness flooding him all at once. His mouth fell open and he dropped to his knees, not caring about the flame of agony that shot through him as his wings came out. He pressed his forehead and hands to the ground, his halo appearing over his head.

Then he began to both chant and sing.

_“Holy, holy, holy_

_Is the Lord God Almighty_

_Who was and is and is to come”_

A gentle hand brushed through his curls. “You were not made to sing that song, Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

“It is the song that burns in my heart, Lord,” Aziraphale said, his voice cracking. He willed himself to look up, tears of joy, of sorrow, of worship, streaming down his face.

She reached down and brushed the tears away, the touch soothing him down to his soul. Aziraphale felt warmth spreading through him and soon realized that his wounds had faded away.

“Aziraphale, Adam is here to give you a new body and send you back to Earth, if that is what you wish.”

Aziraphale sniffled, his breaths unsteady. Kneeling in Her presence, it was easy to want for nothing more than to remain where he was. However, once he found his voice, he had not needed to hesitate.

“It is, Lord.”

“Aziraphale, know this: you were right in thinking that your mission on Earth is not over. It is far from that. And also know that, while Heaven shall not punish you for what you did in relation to Armageddon, I cannot promise that you will be free of hardships from this point forward.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Her face. “I understand, Lord.” Then his chin trembled and he bowed his head down again. “Lord, I…Crowley….”

“I cannot promise him complete protection either. He is Fallen and Hell is unforgiving toward those who betray them. But I can give the two of you this.”

She crouched down and guided him upward while he remained on his knees.

“My answers to those questions that have burdened both of you are: yes I have always known, no, I will never do that, and yes, you have my blessing although I also know that it never would have swayed your decisions.”

She kissed his forehead, and Aziraphale closed his eyes, more tears sliding down.

“Lord…I love….”

“And for that, we are both blessed in return. Now rise, Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate and return to the purpose you have engraved into your very essence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Aziraphale is singing is from Revelations 4:8 (which is a reference to Isiah 6:3). Basically, angels who are vaguely like seraphim or cherubim sing that song over and over when in the presence of God's Throne. 
> 
> In my headcanon, Aziraphale was a cherub first and guarded the Throne before he was send to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden and eventually became a cherub/principality hybrid. Thus, he sang the song that he heard from the seraphim nearest to the Throne out of his love and devotion to God even though his duty was to guard, not engage in endless worship (hence God's comment about this not being his song).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Thanks again to everyone who made finishing this project possible: aerococonut, diamondot, and the BB Mods.

Crowley couldn’t understand why he had ended up here.

After leaving Adam and the others at the airbase, he had flown out of Tadfield and then out of the country and finally around the world. In every place he had landed in, he kept himself out of sight from the humans and watched as they stumbled back toward normalcy.

Or rather as they tried to. Crowley could see the awe in their faces, as if humanity had achieved a collective awareness of how close they had been to oblivion. They somehow knew they had been spared from something catastrophic even if they couldn’t put a name to it.

And now, many of them were looking up at the sky, the sun, the clouds, and the stars as if they were seeing all of it for the first time again. Reassuring themselves that it was all still there and would be for all the days and nights to come.

Crowley sometimes found it in him to smile at the sight. Wonderful, clever humans. Maybe most of them would forget about the whole thing, but there will be a few who will be changed by it. Those few who will reach to do more creative, brave, and exciting things. Things that would resonate throughout the world.

Aziraphale would have been tickled to see it. And he would have used those exact words to describe how it made him feel.

Soon, thoughts about his angel weighed Crowley’s heart down too much to enjoy watching humans sigh in relief. He tried journeying to rippling desert dunes and jagged mountain tops. But none of those places were empty enough to give room to his grief.

Eventually, Crowley took to the air and allowed the currents and the muscle memory of his wings to guide him. It was dark when he finally came upon a definite destination.

And that destination ended up being St. James’ Park.

For a moment, Crowley fumed. Why here? Why somewhere that would hurt so much? He looked up to see lamps flickering in response to his anger. Crowley smirked as he stared at them, thinking about how satisfying it would be to shatter the glass surrounding the lights.

Then, just as quickly as it had flared up, the rage died down, bleeding away like black ink diluted in a stream. His shoulders sagged, his wings drooping against the grass.

Seeing no better options, Crowley folded his wings away. His feet knew where to go before his brain figured it out. To the bench. Their bench. The one where he could picture the angel sitting primly on one end, back straight, wiggling a little when he saw Crowley approach.

Once he found it, Crowley almost gagged on a sour taste on his tongue. Without the angel there, the bench seemed too large, too bare and uncomfortable. Crowley plopped down anyway, settling into his usual sprawl.

There were not many humans in the park. Just an old, stooped man ushering a loping dog along and a couple who were holding onto each other as they dashed against the wind that had picked up. A chill had settled over the area, and Crowley knew that rain was coming. He could feel it, could taste it in the air, but he made no attempt to move.

What did eternity mean to him now?

At last, the moment Crowley had feared had come and his eyes grew wet. Eternity might not be in his future anyway. Beelzebub was sure to keep zir word about things not being over between them. Maybe he could stop fighting and let whoever Hell sent next capture him.

It wasn’t as if he could avoid the torment stretched out in front of him one way or the other.

The wind slowed as the humidity around Crowley increased. No, no something inside him still refused to give Hell the satisfaction of seeing him give up. And any excuse to avoid seeing Hastur again was a good one. No, he’d stay on Earth for as long as he could. It was his home. Or at least, it was as much of a home as a demon could ever expect to have. He would keep on watering his plants and driving his Bentley around and stopping by the bookshop to….

A sprinkle of rain had started, but Crowley didn’t notice due to the tears already dribbling down his face. The Bentley had been destroyed. The bookshop was gone. And there was currently a puddle of demon goo near his plants. None of the comforts he had fought and clawed and fiercely protected were here anymore.

Including Aziraphale.

Crowley hunched down, his entire body shaking as he stopped trying to hold back his sobs. Who cares if anyone saw him? Fuck them. The only person he would try to hide this from would never see it anyway.

Shit, how the heaven was he supposed to deal with eternity when he couldn’t even make it through one day without becoming a blubbering mess?

The rain pelted his back, running icy rivulets down his sides, but Crowley still did not move aside from sitting upright. Rain and tears blended on his face.

Maybe tomorrow he’d feel like moving again. Tomorrow he’d get up, check on the plants, work on finding another car, and see what was left of the bookshop. Oh and he’d clean up what was left of Ligur. The angel would scold him severely for leaving a puddle of holy water around.

Crowley shook again, his clothes soaked against his skin. His hands slid up his arms to try to warm himself, to soothe, to do something to keep a part of him alive.

Suddenly, darkness passed over him the same way a cloud drifts in front of the sun. Seconds later, the darkness was replaced by a faint glow that somehow felt…drier?

Puzzled, Crowley looked up and then quaked when he saw cotton white feathers stretched over him. A wing, an angel’s wing. One angel’s wing in particular.

“Crowley, my dear….”

Crowley ripped his sunglasses off, not caring about blotchy eyes or tear-stained cheeks. He needed to see the face hovering above him, the snow-blond curls, the brilliant blue eyes, and the gentle smile.

“Aziraphale,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. For some stupid reason, more tears welled up in his eyes.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale frowned and placed a hand onto Crowley’s cheek. The angel’s palm was blissfully warm. “What’s wrong?”

Crowley laughed, disappointed that it cracked so many times. “Wha—what’s…what’s wrong?! Angel, you…I thought you…that you were….”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, his head cocking to the side. Unable to resist this adorable creature beside him for a second more, Crowley leapt up and wrapped himself around Aziraphale. Thankfully, the angel did not resist.

“Crowley, what the…?”

“The bookshop,” Crowley croaked out. “It burned. It burned down and I couldn’t find you.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale stiffen in his arms and immediately cursed himself for blurting that out. He squeezed the angel a little tighter and was relieved when Aziraphale finally reciprocated.

“Burned?” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley winced as he heard the angel gulp. “All of it?”

“Yeah. I’m so, so sorry, angel.”

“Oh.” And that was all Aziraphale said for a long moment until he took a sharp breath. “Oh…you thought that I…that I had been…oh Crowley….”

Crowley shook his head and buried his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. The angel was so warm. How could he have faced eternity without this warmth?

“My dear, I am sorry,” Aziraphale murmured, stroking Crowley’s back. “One of my operatives broke into my shop while I was using an activated portal to Heaven. I’m afraid he got the wrong idea and that led to my accidentally stepping into the portal without preparation and being discorporated.”

“Discorporated?” Crowley choked out. “That’s where you were? In Heaven?”

“Sadly, yes. I tried to get another body, but they were far too busy getting ready for battle. And then Gabriel wasn’t exactly pleased with me when Armageddon was halted.”

“Asshole,” Crowley hissed. “But then, how did you…?”

“Adam,” Aziraphale said, moving a hand up to card his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Seems he got an impression of me from you and felt that I belonged here. And he had some help.”

 _‘Thanks kid,’_ Crowley thought as he snuggled closer. Then Aziraphale’s words sunk in, and he abruptly raised his head. “What do you mean ‘help’? Wait…do you mean… _Her_?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Apparently, Her plans are even more ineffable than we all thought.”

Crowley goggled at him. Did She intervene solely to further her own plans for the universe? Or for Aziraphale? Or was it possible that She would even consider listening to the prayers of the Fallen?

The rain continued to fall, but Aziraphale’s wings had arched up above them, shielding them from the storm. Crowley took the angel’s hands into his and started to think about what he should say next when Aziraphale’s smile suddenly faded.

“Crowley, I am sorry. Not just for…for what you thought. For….” Aziraphale blinked slowly, and when his eyes reopened, Crowley’s heart clenched at the tears that were filling them.

“I am also sorry for the rest of it,” the angel continued. “For the terrible things I said to you. For shutting you out. For not listening when you tried to tell me the truth about Heaven’s intentions for the Apocalypse. About all of that and so much more. More than I could ever deserve to be….”

Crowley tightened his grip on Aziraphale’s hands and lifted them up to his chest. “Angel, I forgive you, all right?”

“But…but Crowley, I….”

“Listen, I don’t give a shit about any of that.” Crowley huffed and shook his head. “Well ok, I’m not going to say that it didn’t hurt. It did. But…look, we almost had Armageddon. We were that close to the world being obliterated and probably us with it. What the fuck do I care about the same stupid, petty shit we’ve been flinging at each other for millennia? It never meant anything. I mean…it really didn’t…right?”

Tears dripped from Aziraphale’s eyelashes and Crowley flinched. _‘Shit, I’m making him cry even more. No, no, angel, please don’t cry.’_

But those tears were soon eclipsed by the smile, wide and joyful, that appeared on the angel’s face.

“Crowley, I love you. And no matter what you say, I will always regret not telling you sooner.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open again, and he impressed himself with how he managed to not morph into a snake and slither away. Love? An angel…Aziraphale…loves him? How? How could anyone…especially an angel…especially _Aziraphale_ …love…?

“Crowley?”

Crowley clamped his mouth shut. Aziraphale was clearly waiting for a reply, for something that indicated how Crowley felt about this revelation and what it meant for both of them. He needed to say something.

“Ngk….”

That was the only warning Crowley gave before cupping Aziraphale’s face with his hands and kissing him. He could feel the angel gasp, and Crowley shuddered, scared that he had just made the biggest mistake of his entire existence.

Those fears were erased when Aziraphale’s arms wrapped around him, cradling Crowley closer while his lips parted to allow Crowley greater access. Time stopped. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe it just stopped meaning anything for a while there.

Whatever had happened, all Crowley could focus on was the feeling of the angel’s lips and the soothing closeness those soft white wings provided as they pressed closer around them. The glow of light grew brighter, and Crowley cracked his eyes open to see Aziraphale’s halo manifesting over the angel’s head.

It was that sight that finally broke Crowley out of his spell. He pulled back and caressed Aziraphale’s cheeks again.

“Angel, listen, you need to go. It’s not safe to be around me. Beelzebub…ze made a promise to punish me and ze won’t stop until it happens.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said softly even as something hard flashed in his eyes.

Crowley huffed and shook his head. “No you don’t. I’m saying that Hell will be sending more demons after me. They could show up at any second. And when they finally catch up with me…I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop them from dragging me back. And they won’t hesitate to hurt anyone who stands in their way.”

Aziraphale’s lips pressed into a thin line, his posture straightening. “I’d like to see them try,” he said, the hardness spreading to his voice.

“Urgh, angel, are you listening to me? You need to go so you can be safe. Whatever you’ve got arranged with Her, it’s not going to stop Hell. Please…I can’t lose you again…I can’t….”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale reached a hand over, and Crowley shivered at the determination mixed with righteous anger in his eyes. “I am not running and I am not allowing them to take you back. Don’t forget that I was a guardian and before that I stood on the path to Her Holy Throne.”

A sword suddenly appeared in Aziraphale’s hands, and Crowley gasped when he recognized it as the one that War had tried to wield.

“You were right, dearest,” Aziraphale said, reaching for him with his other hand. “We’re on our side now. And we will fight them. Both of us.”

Crowley took the angel’s hand, swallowing hard. He didn’t like this. Not at all. And not just because of the danger but also because he knew about the price Aziraphale paid every time he returned to purpose he had been designed for. For a moment, he considered trying to run one more time.

But then his own words to Adam finally returned to him. Love, it was a powerful force. Perhaps more powerful than anger or fear or doubt. Satan had not been able to stand against it, and was it so hard to believe that the rest of Hell would not be able to either? He and Aziraphale would stand together and fight together with love.

Crowley closed his fingers around Aziraphale’s and the angel responded by beaming at him. Love uniting an angel and a demon. That might be the most ineffable thing of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually not the original ending I had planned for this fic, but I think it works so much better than my original idea.  
> I'm also toying with the idea of making a sequel to this. I'll have to see.....


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